A new chance
by Tiriltoget
Summary: When Harry is badly treated at Hogwarts the Dursleys see the light and take him to a wizarding school in Australia, far away from Britain. But with Dumbledore and Voldemort lurking around, will he be able to live there in peace? Warning: Some OOC
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT DON'T READ AND DON'T BOTHER TO COMMENT. Sorry for bad writing. This story might have no purpose at all._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

Harry stared out of the window in the living room in nr. 4 Privet Drive. The rain was pouring down, drawing jagged lines down the glass. Strong gusts of wind made the maple tree in garden next-door bend by the force, and dark grey clouds covered the sky above, reflecting his bad mood perfectly. Having returned from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday he didn't know what to think. It had been his first year, and he had been looking forward to getting away from his so-called family, the Dursleys, who had treated him like a slave as long as he could remember.

The year on Hogwarts had started perfectly well. He had quickly made a friend in the red-headed Ron Weasley, and the know-it-all muggle-born Hermione Granger. There had been so much new to take in, and so much to explore and learn about this whole new world of magic. Harry had been happy for the first time in his entire life, but of course, it was too good to be true. Just a couple of months ago one of his fellow Gryffindors had accused him of being arrogant and an attention seeker, and the rumours had spread like wildfire. Ron and Hermione had slowly, but surely distanced themselves from him, for a reason he didn't figure before it was too late; they didn't want to be seen with someone the whole school looked at as a pompous jerk.

He quickly realized they had only been with him because he was known as the Boy-Who-Lived, the one who vanquished the Dark Lord at the age of one. Why did he have to be famous for something he couldn't even remember? Not that he wanted to be famous at all, he had already discovered the disadvantages of that; no true friends, reporters running wild inside the castle to track him down and question him about his childhood, and most of all the rumours.

The worst thing was that not even the teachers seemed to care – well, except for professor McGonagall. The others seemed to agree with the students' opinion of Harry, and worst of all was the Potions professor Snape. The greasy-haired man used the smallest of Harry's mistakes to take points from Gryffindor, or to give him detention. Harry remembered a lesson right after the Christmas break, where he had dropped a vial with his newly made potion in it, and promptly gotten a detention for breaking the vial.

When the other students on Hogwarts had started taunting him and trapped him inside a cupboard with a dungbomb he had been filled with such hopelessness that he only wished to die, to be gone from this world. But old headmaster Dumbledore, no he told him to pick himself up, don't exaggerate and go back to the Dursleys for the summer. Now Harry strongly considered not returning at all. He didn't want to face the stupid school and the stupid people there ever again.

The Dursleys had left him alone since he returned home from school, and not even commented it when he had sat down in a chair by the window and stared outside for hours. He received a few glances occasionally, but that was it. No yelling, no scolding, no claiming he was a freak. But he didn't lower his guard yet. It had not even passed twenty-four hours since uncle Vernon had picked him up at King's Cross.

With a sigh he walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner for the Dursleys, as uncle Vernon would soon come home from work. As he stirred in the stew his aunt Petunia entered the kitchen and stared at him for a few moments. Harry glanced at her cautiously.

"Can I help you, aunt Petunia?" he asked.

"No. I was just going to ask you the same."

Harry had to fight with himself in order not to mope at her in surprise. She actually offered to help him! Aunt Petunia had never done that before; why would she start now? Maybe she was sick? Yes, that had to be it. She had probably knocked her head during the day, and was thinking unclearly.

"No thanks, aunt Petunia. I'm almost done," he replied and turned to get dinner plates, glasses and cutlery. However, Petunia grabbed them out of his grip, and without another word she started setting the table.

_Yes, she has definitely knocked her head into something_, he thought, observing his aunt out of the corner of his eye.

Just a couple of minutes later the front door opened, and his big whale of an uncle came waddling into the kitchen. "Dinner finished?" he asked, glancing at Harry.

"Yes, uncle Vernon," Harry replied quickly and placed the saucepot on the table.

"Dudley! Dinner!" called Petunia before sitting down by the table.

Dudley appeared in the kitchen a few moments later, dragging his big body over to the table and sat down. Harry was surprised that the small chair could hold his weight, not to mention uncle Vernon's, but he knew better than to comment on it, so instead he waited until the three others had helped themselves with the stew before he shovelled a little onto his plate before picking up his cutlery to eat. He didn't even get that far before his plate disappeared from its previous spot. Confused he lifted his gaze to watch Petunia pulling the plate away from him. Suppressing a sigh he realized he had to go without dinner today, and started to push away from the table.

However, his aunt's next action made him pause: She grabbed the spoon and filled his plate with even more food before returning it to its previous position. Harry stared at her with shock. Petunia had always scolded him for taking too big portions, and now she was the one to indirectly telling him to eat more. Dudley she always made sure to give big portions, as "he is a growing boy, and he needs a lot of food." In Harry's opinion Dudley couldn't possibly get any bigger than he already was, at least not in width.

"Stop staring," said Petunia simply.

Harry quickly turned his attention towards his food, and started eating without a word.

"So... how was school?" asked Vernon, surprisingly calm.

Harry's head shot up. "Huh?"

"I said; how was school?" Vernon repeated, looking at him.

Harry hesitated. Hadn't he seen uncle Vernon's lips move, he would have deemed himself crazy. Now, however, he thought that his uncle was even crazier, because Vernon had made his opinion concerning magic clear to him last summer, so what made him ask about something he detested?

"Um... different."

"Only different?" wondered Vernon, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, it was horrible, is that what you want to hear? The friends I made left me because of a false rumour, turns out they only wanted to be with me because I am famous, and the teachers are giving me loads of detentions for simple things like breaking a vial or giving me homework like writing a four feet essay on the uses of a softening charm, while the others get off even without a warning," he rambled, glaring at his uncle, who looked back with mild surprise.

No one said anything for a while, so Harry quickly finished his dinner and returned to the living room, waiting for the others to be done so he could do the dishes. Outside a few flashes of light appeared in the dark sky, followed by the roar of the thunder. Harry just stood by the window, looking outside until he heard the chairs scraping against the floor. He did the dishes without a word, and didn't even comment it when aunt Petunia started drying the clean dishes, though he noticed that she glanced at him every now and then.

"Why do your teachers treat you like that? Do you know?" she asked carefully.

Harry paused and looked at her with a frown. "Why do you even care? I thought you only wanted me away with my freakishness."

Petunia sighed heavily while putting down the plate she was working on. "Look, boy – Harry. The letter accompanying you when we found you on our doorstep told us that the dark wizard might return and that you are the only one who can stop him. So we realized that by treating you so badly wound not exactly help should he return. By the way; we were scared. None of us know much about magic – I know a little because of my sister, but it is still something strange, something unusual.

"I was jealous at your mother because she was our parents' pride. I got nothing. Just a few days ago I realized how stupid I was. Lily couldn't help that she had magic, neither can you. It's just the way some things are. She was a great woman and a great witch after what I've heard. I'm sorry I have treated you so bad, Harry, I really am."

Harry stared at her, gobsmacked. Her gaze held his for a long time while he tried to process all this new information. Such honesty and such regret her eyes held he had never seen before. Slightly frightened he turned back to the dishes, only to pause after a few seconds and look at her again.

"You're serious, aren't you?" he asked lowly.

At that she seemed to be struggling to hide something, and her nod was short and tense. "I am."

"Did you tell uncle Vernon?" Placing the last plate on the bench he started on the saucepot.

"Yes, both him and Dudley. It took a while, but I made Vernon see reason, and he and Dudley have agreed to treat you better," she said.

Harry nodded. "I really appreciate it. Thanks."

"You're welcome. And by the way, do you want me to write to your school?"

His gaze suddenly shot towards her. "What? Why would you do that?" he wondered, his eyes wide open in surprise.

"They are treating you unfairly. You said it yourself," she answered.

He sighed softly while drying his hands. "I doubt it will help any. The students are the ones who started it all anyway. The rumours, I mean."

"I'm sure they're jealous of your fame, Harry," his aunt stated.

Harry frowned. "Why would they be that? It's not cool being famous. You never know who your friends are, you can't trust anyone, and reporters keep chasing you to ask you about your childhood. I don't even remember that night! How could I be famous for something I don't remember?" Grabbing the kitchen cloth he started to clean the table. "I wish Voldemort had killed me along with my parents."

"Is it really that bad?" wondered aunt Petunia as she hung the kitchen towel to dry.

"If you consider being locked inside a small cupboard with a dungbomb bad, so yes," Harry countered.

"Dungbomb?" Petunia stared at him with a quizzical expression.

"A magical stink bomb. I was locked inside that cupboard the whole afternoon," he explained to her.

"Is this usual behaviour?" she wondered.

Harry shook his head. "No. They go after me almost without exception. The only ones who don't pull pranks on me or insult me are the biggest pranksters on Hogwarts; the twin brothers of my assumed friend."

"Ironic," aunt Petunia said with another frown before trotting into the living room.

Harry made his way towards his room, figuring he could just as well get started with his homework.

As the days went on Harry found himself dreading more and more the upcoming autumn. Not even his love for Quidditch was strong enough to outweigh everything else. The Dursleys' especially aunt Petunia seemed to notice that something was wrong, and consulted her husband.

"He told me how badly the teachers on his school treated him," Petunia told him and recited what Harry had told her. "I'm actually worried. He didn't even have any friends."

"Fame can do horrible things to a person, Pet," Vernon said.

"I know that, but Harry stated clearly that he didn't want to be famous. He would rather be dead. He's really having a bad time on that school," Petunia urged.

"Well, what do you suggest? Send him to Stonewall High without having control of his m-magic? He'd just be expelled if he turns the teacher's hair blue again," Vernon protested.

Petunia sighed. "I do agree, certainly, but I don't want him to go to that school when they do such things to him."

"I'm sure it will get better next year," Vernon tried, but Petunia shook her head firmly.

"Harry clearly doesn't believe that." She straightened her dress as he watched her with a distant expression. "I already regret the way I have treated him. I _will_ do something this time if I can. He doesn't deserve that. You know he doesn't."

"I know. But if he told you that a letter won't help, what is it that you can do?" he asked with a surprisingly soft voice for a man on his size.

Petunia folded her hands in her lap. "We have to find out if there are other magic schools," she said determinedly before she disappeared up the stairs.

Harry had just finished his potions homework when someone knocked on the door. Frowning he turned in his chair.

"It's open."

The door slid open and aunt Petunia's face appeared in the crack. She appeared excited, though in a weird, controlled way, and she was smiling at him. "Harry, do you know of any other magic schools in England?" she asked.

"Other schools? Not that I've heard of. But I don't know much about the wizarding world anyway. There are probably some books about it at Flourish and Blotts, though," he pondered loudly.

"Flourish and Wotts? Is that your bookstore?" asked aunt Petunia.

"Flourish and _Blotts_. And yes, but it's in London," Harry told her.

"I'm going with you," she suddenly said, and her voice held no room for argument.

This scared Harry slightly, even after the events of the past days. His magic-hating aunt offered to accompany him to the wizards' shopping street which would be filled with magic from one end to another. But he couldn't very well go on his own. How would he get to London?

"Er... Okay. If you really want to," he said hesitantly.

"Great. I'll ask Vernon when he has time to take us," she said and promptly disappeared again.

When Petunia reached the living room Dudley had come home from his meeting with his buddies, and was now sitting in one of the reclining chairs, watching a boxing game on TV. He merely threw a quick glance at his mother when she appeared.

"He didn't know of any," she told Vernon, "but he said he might find a book on it in their bookstore, Flourish and Dotts or whatever it was."

"What – are you talking about the schools, Pet?" he asked, tearing his gaze away from the telly.

"Yes. You know how important this is. Not only to Harry, but to me as well. I feel like I owe Lily, and him too," she ranted.

"I know that." Vernon paused. "Well, let's go to this bookstore. Where is it by the way?"

"He said it was in London. I guess he knows more precisely."

Then Dudley finally turned and looked at his parents with a curious expression. "What is going on? What is all this with Harry?" he asked.

Petunia walked over and stroked his hair gently. "Harry is being bullied at school by both students and teachers, and you remember what we talked about before he got home?"

"About treating him better? Yes. Why?"

"So we are thinking about finding another school for him. That's why we are going to London, to find a book which hopefully can tell us about it," Petunia explained.

"Oh. But why can't we just send him to Stonewall, like we planned before all this started to happen?" asked Dudley, surprisingly calm. His parents' speeches from spring about their attitudes towards Harry had apparently worked.

Now his father interrupted. "Because he is not fully trained, and he hasn't got much control of his magic yet, so we decided it would be better for both him and us that he got to finish his magic education. If he loses control, who knows what can happen?"

"Oh. Yeah." Dudley didn't fancy another pig's tail, so he merely nodded. "When are you going? Am I going to come too?"

"No, Dudley, I think only your mum and Harry will go. We can do something else meanwhile," said Vernon, returning his attention to the telly.

"Where is this bookstore, then?" wondered Dudley.

"In London."

Vernon had decided they should go to London next week, when he had a day free from work. So the following Friday the family left for London.

"Would you mind telling us a little more of the magical world, Harry?" asked Vernon; he sounded curious.

Harry hesitated while he stared out on the passing trees. "Yes, well... I don't know very much. At school we are taught subjects like charms, potions, defence against the dark arts, transfiguration, astronomy, herbology and history of magic. And we are also taught how to fly on broomsticks. Witches and wizards have their own sport that is kind of similar to basketball, only that we fly on broom instead of running. It's called Quidditch," he explained, "It's the most wonderful thing I've ever tried."

"Kittich?" asked Dudley incredulously, "what a weird name."

"No, _Quidditch_," Harry corrected.

Dudley huffed. "Still weird. How does this sport work?"

"Well, there is a pitch with three hoops in each end. Those hoops are the tops of one pole each, raising them high above he ground. Then there are four balls in the game at once; one Quaffle – that's equal to a basketball or an American football as you would carry it in your arms. Those who handle the Quaffle are called Chasers. There are three Chasers on each team. They are to put the ball through one of the hoops of the opposite team, which are guarded by a goalkeeper. Then there are two Bludgers; they are bewitched to fly around and try to knock the players off their brooms. That's why the Beaters are important. They are flying around with a bat, like those you see in baseball, and they try to protect their team members from being hit by the Bludgers. There are two beaters on each team. Lastly there is a small, golden ball with wings called the Golden Snitch. The player handling this ball is called a Seeker, and his job is to catch the Snitch. That's a difficult task because it moves very fast and is difficult to spot. There is only one seeker on each team. The first team that catches the Snitch gets one hundred and fifty points, and the game ends. Then, your chance to win is judged by how many goals the Chasers can make. Ten points for each goal," he explained, drowning himself in his enthusiasm for the sport. When he was done, he found himself smiling.

"Cool," said Dudley fascinated. "Are you playing? At your school I mean?"

Harry nodded. "I am a Seeker."

"What else is there in the magic world?" asked Vernon.

"Obviously a lot of magic. As you noticed last year they use owls to bring mail and newspapers. By the way; the pictures in the newspapers move, and the portraits at school are speaking too. We also have our own Ministry. The Ministry of Magic, though I don't know much about it."

When they closed in on London, Harry told uncle Vernon a more accurate address to the Leaky Cauldron; Charing Cross Road. Vernon parked the car on a nearby parking lot, and told them to meet there in three hours. He and Dudley disappeared in another direction while Harry led aunt Petunia towards the building he knew to be the Leaky Cauldron.

"Why are we going in here? It's just an old shop. It's nothing in here, Harry," Petunia protested as he moved to push open the door.

"You're a muggle, you can't see it, only the inside as you are my family and guardian," he said and held the door for her.

"Oh," she said before following him.

The pub inside quickly confirmed his explanation. Men and women in robes sat by the bar, chatting, or tumbled in and out of the fireplace. Harry brought up a hand to instinctively flatten the fringe over his scar, not wanting to be recognized. He hurried past the landlord Tom and to the brick wall behind the pub with a confused Petunia hot on his heels. Now, what had Hagrid done? What was the order? Three up and two across, that's it.

Harry pulled his wand and tapped the bricks in turn under his aunt's critical gaze.

"What are you doing?" she wondered.

"Wait and see," he replied.

They didn't have to wait long, though, before the bricks moved aside to form an archway into the Diagon Alley. Petunia stepped through, but then she stopped to look around with awe and curiosity.

"So much weird things. What are all this?" she wondered lowly as she stared in through the different windows.

"Potions ingredients," he pointed at the Apothecary, "jokes," his finger moved to Gambol and Jakes Joke Shop, "pet shop," he gestured at the Magical Menagerie, "Quidditch supply store," he pointed at Quality Quidditch Supplies, "the wand maker Mr. Ollivander," his finger ended by Ollivander's, and he let his arm fall. "We are going to Gringotts, the bank."

Harry had to keep an eye on his aunt because she was so busy looking around she almost disappeared for him. At last they reached the white marble building, once inside Harry struggled to keep from laughing by his aunt's expression when she saw the goblins. She nervously followed him towards one of goblins, and he looked up, waiting for Harry to speak.

"I wish to withdraw some money," he stated simply.

The goblin stared at him critically. "Key?"

Harry handed it to him, and the goblin got down from his chair. "Follow me," he said.

"Harry, where are we going?" whispered aunt Petunia as they followed the goblin behind the main hall.

"To my vault. Do you rather want to stay here and wait?" he challenged, having noticed her insecurity of the goblins.

Aunt Petunia quickly shook her head and climbed into one of the carts after him and the goblin. The cart gained speed quickly, and aunt Petunia visibly paled as the speed increased on the way down. After several minutes the cart stopped, and aunt Petunia hurried out of it, making Harry chuckle.

"I suppose you didn't like the ride?"

She scowled at him. "I will not do that again," she declared as the goblin made his way towards the door of the vault.

When the door opened Harry quickly filled the small pouch he had his money in before allowing the goblin to close the vault again.

After they were done at Gringotts Harry showed aunt Petunia Flourish and Blotts, and once inside she disappeared behind the shelves looking at all the books that were there. Harry stepped over to the wizard by the counter, who looked at him with a critical expression. Apparently he had read the latest articles of the Daily Prophet, containing the stupid rumours about him given by that Boot-guy in Ravenclaw. Harry didn't remember his given name, but neither did he care about it.

"How may I help you?" the wizard asked, only half-way covering his icy tone.

"Do you have any books about magical schools, sir?" Harry asked politely.

The man disappeared between the shelves without a word and soon returned with a rather thin, dark brown book. _An Appraisal of Magical Education in the World _was imprinted on the front.

"One galleon and three sickles," he said, and Harry handed him the money before searching for aunt Petunia. He found her in the innermost corner of the shop, looking at a book named _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

"Aunt Petunia, we can go now. I've got the book," he said.

"Oh, yes, sure." She checked her watch. "We've still got a while until we are supposed to meet with Vernon and Dudley. Maybe we can look around in this Diggon Alley?"

Harry frowned. Not only had his aunt offered to go with him in here; now she was actually interested in the magical world. "Sure," he said.

They spent the next hours exploring Diagon Alley together, Harry explaining what they saw – if he knew it himself, that is. At one point Harry spotted Lavender Brown in the midst of the crowd. She glared at him and put her nose to the sky before striding down the street behind her mother. After a while they returned to the Leaky Cauldron and found themselves a cafeteria for a bite on Charing Cross Road. They got back to the car in time, where Dudley and uncle Vernon were already waiting for them.

"Did you find your book?" asked uncle Vernon.

Harry simply nodded and climbed into the backseat.

Only when they got home to Privet Drive Harry opened the book on the coffee table as Vernon demanded to see too.

"Well... there are a lot of international schools..." he murmured at he flicked through the book, searching for any schools in the UK. The only one he found was Hogwarts.

"May I have a look?" asked aunt Petunia.

"Whatever," said Harry and rose from the couch. "I've got homework anyway." With that he disappeared upstairs to finish his essay on how to remove a Spiky Bush.

The sun was shining, and birds were chirping from the trees in the park. Harry sat on a swing looking at the children who ran around between the slides and the spring riders. Their parents were watching them closely to make sure they didn't get hurt. Harry felt a sting of envy when one of the mothers cuddled a little boy, reminding him of his own loss. How would things be if his parents had been there? Would they like the person he had become? Maybe they would have scolded the teachers at school. He barely knew more than their names; Lily and James Potter, and how they looked, as he had seen them in the Mirror of Erised. But he knew that his father had also played Quidditch, and both were sorted in Gryffindor. At least he thought his father would approve of him playing Quidditch, as he did it himself in his school days.

Harry didn't even notice the person beside him before they sat down on the swing beside him, making the whole swing set dip slightly. At that he turned his head towards Dudley, who stared at him with a wondrous expression.

"Hi, Dudley," Harry said. "Why aren't you with your friends, tormenting another kid?"

Dudley frowned. "I don't do that anymore. After mum and dad told me to be kind to you I realized that I should treat others better as well. I saw Piers and the rest of the guys one time, when they were bullying a small kid and I saw them steal his money. So I figured I didn't want to be such an asshole."

Harry almost had to pinch himself. After so many years of bullying others Dudley had finally realized how bad his behaviour was; Harry had never thought that his small brain could figure that out all by himself, but seeing as he actually did, Harry realized that Dudley had more brain than he let out in the first place.

"That's great, Dudley," he said, "but what about your friends?"

"What about them? If they keep bullying others I'd rather not stay with them. Say, I should lose some fat and gain some muscles to defend them instead," he stated, shocking Harry so he fell off the swing, backwards.

"What? Where is that Dudley I know? Oh, I know! Dumbledore has been here and bewitched you!" Harry exclaimed.

"No! I'm not bewitched," Dudley countered, looking offended. "I'm nothing but Dudley Dursley!"

Harry stared at him for several moments. "Then this is a dream."

Dudley suddenly pinched his arm, making him startle by the pain.

"Ow! What did you do that for?"

"Is it a dream or not?" asked Dudley, rising a brow.

Harry snorted. "I guess not. Sorry for being suspicious, Dudley."

"That's okay. I understand that you were. I'm sorry too, for how I treated you."

"Apology accepted," Harry grinned.

Dudley appeared satisfied with himself and turned towards the playing children again. None of them said anything in a while, and Harry started moving the swing slightly in boredom.

"What was that book you got the other day about?" Dudley asked.

Harry looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear the conversation before lowering his voice. "About magical schools. Aunt Petunia wanted me to get one."

Gripping the ropes more tightly Dudley frowned at him. "Are you thinking about transferring to another school?"

"No. Anyway, there are no other wizarding schools in the UK."

"Oh." Dudley suddenly found the sand very interesting, and he started kicking it absently. "I'm sorry about your school. Mum says they are mean to you."

"Thanks. Actually, there are a lot of interesting things there, like the subjects and the books, and the whole magical world, but it's just the people who make it all a hell," Harry said.

"What do they do?"

Harry shrugged. "The teachers give me detention for using one too much porcupine quill in the potion or taking thirty points from my house for accidentally smashing a pineapple we are supposed to charm to dance, when the others simply get a new one. Not to mention that the other students hexed me with different curses like a skull-growing hex or a stinging hex. Some of the Gryffindors in third year often locked me inside a cupboard for the night before I learned the Alohomora to unlock doors," he told him.

Dudley looked at him with slight confusion. "What is a stinging hex?"

"It's a hex that causes pain and large swelling, many times worse than of a sting from a wasp."

Harry threw a glance at his cousin, who now sat completely still on the swing. Suddenly the big boy jumped off the swing and ran towards Privet Drive in a manner that almost made Harry laugh. To see a big boy like Dudley run with all his blubber was one of the more hilarious sights he had seen.

_A/N: I know at least some of the characters are out of character, but some of them have to be._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

___ANC ANC ANC_

Hedwig had been gone for a long time now, and Harry was starting to get worried. He normally had his window on his room open so she could come and go as she wanted, but normally she was only out during night to hunt. Now, however, he had not seen her in two weeks, and had no idea where she was. Hagrid, being the one of two persons who was friendly towards him at school, had given her to him on his eleventh birthday, and she had been a great comfort for him the days where everything seemed dark the last year.

Harry threw a glance out of the open kitchen window, hoping to see a small, white spot on the sky, but there was nothing to be seen other than a few clouds scattered about. He pulled the casserole with the lasagne out of the oven and placed it on the table as uncle Vernon entered the kitchen.

"Dinner is served!" Vernon called, and Dudley quickly appeared in the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower.

To Harry's surprise the big boy had actually taken it on his word and started training – Harry had joined him the last week too. And only after a few weeks results were showing. Dudley had shrunk slightly, and Harry had built stamina.

After Dudley aunt Petunia came in and sat down by the table. "Smells good, Harry," she said.

"Thanks, aunt Petunia," Harry murmured, blushing slightly by the compliment. It was still weird for him to receive compliments, which the Dursleys had taken to give him every now and then, especially his aunt.

In the middle of the meal a figure appeared in the window, making the whole family jump in surprise and turn to look. Harry quickly recognized the white owl with the dark specks on the sides.

"Hedwig!" he exclaimed and jumped to his feet.

Hedwig soared into the room, dropping a letter in aunt Petunia's lap before landing on Harry's shoulder.

"Hi, girl. I was worried about you. Where have you been?" he said, completely ignoring the letter.

Hedwig merely hooted and nipped his ear affectionately before flying out of the window again, probably to rest on his room. Harry looked after her until she disappeared behind the wall. With a small smile he returned to his dinner as Vernon and Dudley curiously watched Petunia opening the letter Hedwig had brought her.

Why had Hedwig brought a letter to aunt Petunia? And why had Hedwig been away for so long? Two weeks was way too much for a hunt, besides, she wouldn't return with a letter from a hunt. No, she had probably been somewhere to get a letter. Though how she knew where to get that letter was beyond him.

"Who is it from?" wondered Harry. "Is it from Hogwarts?"

Aunt Petunia merely smiled at him and folded the letter again, putting it away without giving him an answer. Harry frowned at this, but he didn't comment it. Instead he started to gather the empty dishes to clean them.

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry stared out of the window as he had done for so many hours already this summer. It was raining again, but it didn't matter to him. The clock on the wall showed six in the morning. No one but Harry was up yet. At first it was a bit weird that he was up so early Sunday morning, but today being July thirty-first it was understandable. Harry was now twelve years old.

There was no actual reason that he was awake this early, because he didn't expect any presents like you and I normally do. Hedwig was sitting by his side, being allowed in the living room as long as she was houseclean. Out of pure boredom he picked up his Defence Against the Dark Arts-book and started reading from a random page in the middle.

Hours later he could hear the light steps of aunt Petunia on her way down the stairs. He glanced up to see her entering the living room.

"Good morning, Harry. And happy birthday," she said.

"Thanks, aunt Petunia," he said, slightly flabbergasted by the fact that she had remembered his birthday and actually congratulated him on it too. "If uncle Vernon and Dudley are awake I can start on the breakfast." He pushed himself out of the chair he was sitting in and aimed towards the kitchen.

"You don't have to do that, Harry. I've told you that several times. At least you don't have to do that on your birthday," aunt Petunia said, following in his tracks.

"I don't mind cooking. It's a bit fun, actually," he said as he started to pull out eggs, flour and other ingredients needed to make pancakes for breakfast.

"May I help you, then?"

"No, but thanks for the offer," he replied with a small smile.

Aunt Petunia turned to pick out another baking bowl and grabbed the packet with sugar and four eggs. Harry stared at her with wonder.

"Um... aunt Petunia, I told you I didn't need any help," he tried carefully.

"I know. I'm baking a birthday cake," she replied lightly.

"A birthday cake? Dudley had birthday last week, have you mixed the dates?" he asked, wondering if his aunt had lost track of the dates.

"I know, but today is your birthday. Therefore, I'm making a birthday cake," she stated stubbornly, leaving no room for protests.

"Oh. Thanks, aunt Petunia."

"You're welcome, Harry."

Uncle Vernon and Dudley came down a bit later, perfectly in time for breakfast. Vernon was in a surprisingly good mood, humming as he entered the kitchen with the newspaper in his hand.

"Good morning," he said as he sat down by the table. Harry answered him politely while flipping the last pancake. "And happy birthday, Harry."

Now, this was even weirder than aunt Petunia remembering his birthday. Vernon had never cared for him, and especially not bothered about his birthday until this summer. Harry wondered if aunt Petunia had reminded him of it.

"Thanks, uncle Vernon."

"Received any presents yet?" Vernon glanced at him over the top of the paper.

"No. There's no one who would have sent me," Harry replied, trying to appear unbothered by the fact. He knew he shouldn't be disappointed. After all, he had expected it, and it was not like he was used to receiving presents on his birthday.

"Well, if it's of any comfort, we have one for you," aunt Petunia said as Dudley entered the kitchen. Ignoring Harry's stunned expression, she continued; "Would you please go get Harry's present, Dudley dear?"

"Yes, mum," Dudley said before disappearing again.

Totally bewildered Harry tried to act normal as he placed the plate of pancakes on the table, but the thought that the Dursleys had gotten him a birthday present was overwhelming. He didn't believe it until Dudley pushed a present in his arms. When Harry just stood there and stared at him, he urged; "open it."

Harry didn't need to be told twice. Carefully he opened it and revealed a big stack of clothes, looking surprisingly fashionable. As he checked the clothing labels he realized they were all in his size too.

"I hope it gets useful when we move to Australia tomorrow," said aunt Petunia.

"What! Are we moving to Australia?" he exclaimed, staring at her with disbelief.

"Yes. Vernon and I decided that because of the horrible social conditions at Hogwarts you should be transferred to a better wizarding school. After all you deserve better than to be treated like they did," Petunia said, appearing slightly nervous.

Harry moped at her for a moment without being able to come up with anything to say. When he finally found something to say, he stuttered; "Y-you would move to A-Australia? For _me_?"

His aunt smiled weakly. "Yes, Harry. I have already sent the school a letter. I borrowed your owl, and that letter I received when she returned was the acceptance letter."

Harry couldn't help it; he threw himself around her neck and hugged her fiercely. "Thank you!" he repeated over and over as uncle Vernon chuckled so the whole table shook.

Then Harry realized what he was doing, and pulled back, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, aunt Petunia."

"For what? Hugging me? You don't have to be sorry about that. It's perfectly fine," she said, smiling at the sight of his sparkling eyes.

Harry couldn't help smiling too. It was just too good to be true; he didn't have to return to stupid Hogwarts with the ignorant, stupid Dumbledore and all the proud students and teachers. He didn't have to walk in those dark, creepy hallways, and never, ever would he have to take Snape's classes again. Maybe he could even play Quidditch at the new school? Harry thought he had never been happier in his entire life.

"But wait; Then uncle Vernon has to quit his job, and Dudley will be parted with his friends," Harry suddenly realized.

"Don't worry about me. I've already found a job at a company in the car industry," Vernon waved a hand to shut him up.

"What about Dudley, then?" Harry turned towards Dudley.

"I already told you, Harry. I don't want to be friends with bullies, so I have no problem with leaving."

Harry sat down on his usual chair, looking from Dudley, to uncle Vernon and back to aunt Petunia. "I'm sure it's not _that_ easy to leave everything you know here behind?"

"Well, nothing that's more important than you being okay," aunt Petunia argued. "It's better to leave than to meet you at the end of next term having been bullied beyond belief, so I suggest we send a letter to Dumledoor and tell him that you are dropping out of Hogwarts."

"Yeah. Again, thank you for doing this for me. I'll write to Dumbledore after breakfast," he said and helped himself with a pancake. "By the way, what school did you apply me to?"

"Waratah Academy of Magic," aunt Petunia said. "According to your book the school scores very high on tests and exams, and the teachers have a good reputation."

"Oh. Okay," said Harry. "Did they say anything about Quidditch in the letter, since it was not mentioned in the book?"

"It was mentioned, I think, in the information letter that followed. I'll take a look at it afterwards," she replied and sat down to eat with her family.

That day was the best birthday ever, thought Harry. His family treated him like a part of them, they even applied him to another school, a selfless action he never had foreseen. In the evening aunt Petunia served them the cake she had made, and on top it said _Harry 12 years._

___ANC ANC ANC_

Almost forty-eight hours later found Harry searching for the Australian equivalent of Diagon Alley in the midst of Sydney. The school had told in the letter where to find the shopping street and the transport to Waratah in Sydney.

The house uncle Vernon had bought was slightly larger than nr 4 Privet Drive, and newer too. It had four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room with view over the harbour and a small, neat kitchen. It was placed a few miles outside of Sydney, making the distance to the city a too long way to walk, but they could easily take the train or bus when Vernon was unable to drive. The day after arriving uncle Vernon had left for his new job, and aunt Petunia, Harry and Dudley were left to unpack and furnish the house.

Harry liked his new home. It was bright and welcoming, and luckily it had a well-working air condition system, which would prove useful when summer arrived. It had taken Harry a while to adapt to the sudden time change and the change of season.

Dudley would be starting on the local secondary school, and he and Harry had already met some of his class mates who were living in the neighbourhood. Aunt Petunia had settled down well too; befriending a few of the ladies in their street in short time.

Since uncle Vernon had to go to work the day Harry was supposed to go to Wattle Avenue, Dudley joined Harry and aunt Petunia when they took the bus to the city.

"Are you going to play Kittich when you start here too, Harry?" wondered Dudley.

"Yes, if the offer stands," Harry replied before checking the map to make sure he was in the right street.

"Did you bring your broom, then?"

"Of course I did." After a few moments he started walking again, looking at the house numbers.

"Number twenty-four," he murmured and pushed open a door to what looked like an abandoned store.

Once inside he realized that, like the Leaky Cauldron, instead of the abandoned store was a pretty well-preserved, or rather new hotel. This was something different than the Leaky Cauldron! The staff ran about with spotless black uniforms with a symbol of two brooms in a cross on the left side of their chests. A couple of them stood by the reception desk, flicking through notebooks and speaking with costumers lined up in front. The floor was covered with patterned marble, and the stair railing was curved in shapes like a hippogriff or a phoenix.

Looking down on the letter again the description told him to follow the corridor leading from the reception, so Harry did that.

"Harry, where are we going?" wondered Dudley confused as he looked around.

"The shopping street, Harry replied and stopped by the end of the corridor. There was a big door with seven silver coloured stars lined up.

Harry checked the piece of parchment he still held in his hand and tapped the second, the seventh, the fifth, the fourth, the first and then the sixth. Immediately the door slid open to reveal a long, straight street crowded with witches, wizards and children. A sign on the wall to the right told _Wattle Avenue_, and above the door he had just entered another sigh hung, saying _The Broken Broomstick_.

"Wow," Dudley gasped as his eyes started to travel back and forth between the shop windows.

Petunia was not as awed as her son, but only one visit to a similar place did not reduce her curiosity. Harry also took his time to look around in hope of finding what he searched. The equipment list first listed 4 uniforms, so Harry was looking for a clothing store. According to the list the students did not use robes, like they did on Hogwarts, but rather grey pants, white shirt and a vest, a cape and a cloak for cold weather and rain. The tie would be the colours of your house at Waratah, but icy blue until the sorting. The girls' uniform, on the other hand (for that was also listed in the letter, of course), contained of a white skirt, white blouse, cape, a white hat and a similar cloak. The boys' shirts and the whole of the girls' uniform were supposed to be of silk.

"Silk? Isn't that very expensive?" he murmured to himself before pushing open a door to _Mr. Dayson's robes and uniforms._

A man, probably Mr. Dayson, stood by the counter, smiling at him as he entered. "Hello! How may I help you?" he asked kindly, his gaze moving to aunt Petunia.

"I wish to buy school robes for Waratah Academy of Magic," Harry said carefully.

Mr. Dayson nodded and started measuring his arms, legs, width of different body parts and his height before he strode off into the shop, only to return a few minutes later.

"Try this on, will you?" he asked, handing one uniform to Harry before he gestured towards a dressing room.

Harry did as he was told, and when he returned Mr. Dayson had him stand on a box in order to adjust the size more accurately. Harry tried to stand as still as possible as Mr. Dayson moved on the clothes to hem it. It took a while since he needed four sets, but finally he was sent to change while Mr. Dayson sewed the hems.

"There you go. That is five galleons, three sickles and one knut."

Harry handed him the money and left the store with his aunt and cousin, who had been watching all along. Once back on the street Harry stopped to check the list again; aunt Petunia glancing over his shoulder.

"Dragon hide gloves? Do dragons really exist?" she asked incredulously.

"Sure. There are a lot of different breeds – I saw one Norwegian Ridgeback last year, though it was just a baby at that time," Harry told her.

"Cool," Dudley said.

"No," Petunia interrupted. "Dangerous."

"Indeed," Harry agreed.

"What's the next on your list?" wondered Dudley.

"Wand, cauldron, vials, brass scales and telescope, but I already have those things. Now I need books," Harry said and walked on, hoping to find a book store.

In the end, beside Sydney Gringotts, he found a book store named _Spots and Flops_. Once inside Dudley and aunt Petunia let their curiosity run freely once more, disappearing between shelves in matter of seconds. By the time Harry had gotten all the books Dudley was flicking through _Dragon blood and heart strings: Uses of dragons. _Harry had gathered a pretty big stack of books: _A guide to charming _by Wilbur Winnings; _Magical defence grade 2 by _David Bulweisser; _Transfiguration for beginners _by Susanna Jones; _Magical plants and herbs from A to Z _by Frederica Myerson; _Potion-brewing: a guide to the perfect potion _by Antonius Wolf; _Five hundred Potions Ingredients _by Alanna Maple; _Magical world history_ by Ivan Baikov; _Star struck,_ by Julianna Ulrichson; _From Australia to Zambia _by Thomas Molinari and _Numbers with magic _by Michael Mars. He had also pulled out a tome of magical Australia and one simply titled _A guide to_ _Waratah_

After he had paid they went to _Quivering Quills_, a shop that sold quills, ink, parchment and other stationeries. Lastly they entered Jenna's Owls and Pets to get treats for Hedwig before they left, with far enough to bring back home.

Once they got home, Harry packed all his things in his school trunk, except for _A guide to Waratah, _which he spent the rest of the day reading. He was curious about this school; did they sort their students, like Hogwarts, and in that case, how? What was their attitude towards muggle-borns contra purebloods?

He found the answers eventually. Like Hogwarts, Waratah sorted their students in four houses, after their personality traits, but instead of someone choosing preferred traits for a house, the similarity to one of the four elements of water, fire, earth and air decided which house you got.

The school crest was an elegant, curved shield shape with a big W surrounded by six white winged horses. Below was the school's motto; _Don't hide in a kangaroo's pouch_, which meant that you should come out and face the world as it is and do your best.

Rather than seven years at Hogwarts you would do eight years at Waratah, and there were three major tests during those years; S.W.I.F.T – Sane Wizarding Intensive Fearsome Test in third year, B.A.T – Brutal Academic Test in sixth year, and M.A.N.T.A – Magical Academic Necessary Terminate Assessment in eight year. The school was known for its students' high scores on tests, and valued prestige highly.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

The next morning the Dursleys accompanied Harry to Sydney Airport, where departure would happen.

"Are you going to fly?" wondered Dudley.

"Kind of," replied Harry. "But not with flying machines. You'll see."

Dudley nodded and stared out of the car window again. Hedwig was placed in her cage between them, and was wide awake, knowing that something was about to happen. Upon arriving at the airport uncle Vernon helped Harry placing his trunk on a trolley. Harry placed Hedwig's cage on top of it and his broom beside it before he double checked the method of reaching gate 11 ½. With the Dursleys at his heels he steered the trolley towards a pillar in the furthest end of the hall, where there were less people. The letter said number two from the right wall.

"Just follow me," he said to his family before disappearing inside the pillar.

He stood on a large concrete covered area without ceiling. Around him witches and wizards made a slight chaos in front of an enormous carriage, pulled by about twenty equally enormous white winged horses with silvery feather tips on their wings and startling blue eyes. The carriage was without problem bigger than a house, both long and tall, clear white with many doors. A wizard or a witch stood by each door, keeping count of the students.

Uncle Vernon was the first one through the pillar, appearing very uncertain. At the sight of the horses and the carriage, though, he froze. "What the hell is this, Harry?" he asked, shocked.

"The transport to Waratah," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"Are you going to fly? In a carriage? That's impossible," Vernon protested.

"Not with magic," said Harry as a gasp told him that aunt Petunia had come through, and Dudley behind her.

Harry pushed his trolley towards the carriage and pushed Hedwig's cage and his broom inside.

"Let me help you with that trunk, lad," said the conductor by the door and lifted the trunk inside the carriage.

"Thanks," Harry replied politely.

"Harry?" Aunt Petunia sounded slightly unsure when she spoke. "Will you write?"

"Sure."

Then, suddenly, she barged forwards and embraced him tightly. Surprised, Harry stiffened for a moment before returned the hug. Aunt Petunia had never hugged him; the one time they had been this close was on his own birthday, out of sheer happiness. He figured he liked to be hugged. It was an unusual experience for him, but never the less nice.

Uncle Vernon patted him on his back and smiled. "Be careful, Harry. I don't know what is going on at these schools, but after what you told us – at least be careful with Quidditch. I don't want a letter saying you have died in an accident."

Harry grinned. "People don't die in Quidditch. Some get hurt, yes, but magic heals a broken bone in minutes."

"But still."

"Okay, I will be careful, uncle Vernon," Harry promised before glancing at the clock on the wall: nine forty-nine.

"Write as soon as you get there," aunt Petunia said.

"I will. I'll see you at Winter break," he said and stepped inside the carriage.

"Bye, Harry," sounded from three voices on the platform.

"Bye," Harry replied before he looked around.

He was standing in a corridor that went across of the carriage, with two corridors crossing it lengthwise, sporting compartments on either side. People were walking up and down, pulling their trunks behind them as they searched for their friends or an empty compartment. A staircase between the two corridors led to first floor.

Harry dragged his luggage down the corridor until he found an empty compartment, which he entered. After a few attempts he managed to push his trunk above the seats after having pulled out the defence-book, and propped down on the seat closest to the window.

He had read in some of the books at the times when he had nothing to do, and had figured that they contained surprisingly advanced stuff for a second year, but then again; maybe they were very hard-working?

A knock on the compartment door interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up to see a plain-looking boy with chocolate coloured hair staring at him through the open door.

"Can I sit here?" he asked.

"Sure," Harry replied and watched as the boy pushed his trunk over the seats along with a cage containing a huge, narrow-faced owl that Harry never had seen before, before he sat down in the seat across of Harry's.

"I'm Julian, by the way," he said.

"I'm Harry," Harry replied and placed the book in the seat beside him.

"Why haven't I seen you before?" Julian asked.

"I'm a transfer. Starting in second year."

"Oh. Where do you come from, then?" Julian got a curious look on his face.

Harry hesitated. "Um... Britain." Deciding to change the subject he asked: "What about you? Are you a second year too?"

"Yeah. Lionpaw," he said.

"That's one of the houses, right? I think I read that in a book," Harry said.

"Yes. The others are Lionpaw, Drizzledrop and Starling."

Harry nodded. How do you get sorted?" he wondered.

"You are called forward and have to hold a glass ball divided in four colours, one for each house, and the colour of the house you are most fitted for lights up. In case you fit for several both of them light up and you can choose. Good thing that ball is unbreakable, 'cause I dropped it when I was sorted." Julian laughed, and Harry had to smile too.

"Do you play Quidditch?" Harry asked.

Julian shook his head. "I wish I did, though. It's the coolest thing on earth. I'd love to play on the Lionpaw team." He paused. "Do you play?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "I play seeker. I really hope I can make the team."

"Do you have any idea which house you will be sorted in?"

"No idea."

The carriage started to move, and Harry looked out of the window as the speed increased rapidly. As the carriage took off he felt a funny tickling in his stomach a short moment before it eased out. For the second time he could see Sydney from air; the tall skyscrapers by the harbour, the Opera House and the harbour bridge, though it disappeared out of sight when they turned and lay the city behind them.

Harry turned back to the conversation with Julian, and as the hours passed they found themselves becoming friends. Around noon a woman with a trolley came down the corridor, but rather than selling wizard's candy and sweets, her trolley was filled with bread rolls of different kinds with cheese, ham, chicken, salad, tomato and a lot more different varieties. Harry declined politely as aunt Petunia had firmly shoved a package with lunch sandwiches.

After some time Julian suggested it would be a good idea to change into the uniform. Harry found the outfit more comfortable and practical than the flapping robes at Hogwarts, even though you could easily spot it if they became dirty.

"The house-elves clean them without problem," Julian waved unconcernedly.

"House-elves?" Harry asked. He had never heard of such creatures.

"Uhuh. Wizards use them to do domestic work."

"You just use them as servants? How cruel!" Harry exclaimed.

Julian shook his head. "No. They _want_ to work for wizards. According to them it's the only way to be a proper house-elf. Besides, all the wizards and witches I know treat them kindly."

"Oh," Harry murmured and slumped back in his seat, watching the outside. It was steadily growing darker, and he could feel the carriage descending.

After a while lights were visible on the ground after having flown over deserted land for hours. They were gathered in a clutch by a lake that was barely visible in the weak remains of sunlight.

"Is that the castle?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

Harry almost jumped out of his seat when the carriage touched the ground outside the castle. A guide of Waratah had said it had been build for the singular purpose of being a magical school, and since Europeans had only lived there for two hundred years it was a pretty new castle. The first wizard in Australia had arrived in the late 19th century, but Waratah castle was not built before 1925, though the resemblance to a 17th century European castle was surprising. It had several big towers and huge windows in a row, which Julian explained was the Great Hall. He also said there was a huge Quidditch pitch behind the castle, which Harry barely could wait to see and try.

The carriage stopped right outside huge oak door, and students started to flow outside in a mass of white uniforms. Harry pulled down his trunk, broom and Hedwig's cage before Julian stopped him.

"Just leave it there. It'll appear in your dorm when you get sorted," he said and walked out without even his owl.

Harry shrugged and hurried after him before he could disappear in the crowd. They went with the flow inside the castle and up a staircase made of a slightly transparent blue stone all the way up to the first floor where two large mahogany doors had been opened, and four long tables were visible inside with students sitting on benches on either side of each table. Each table also had the crest and name of each house: Lionpaw being the face of a male lion viewed from the front on a red background, Drizzledrop had a leaping dolphin with a black stripe along the side and light underside, this pictured on a blue background. Whistlewind had a falcon during a dive on a yellow background, while Starling was green with a brown horse. Also, those crests were represented in the banners hanging from the ceiling, with the Lionpaw table by the left wall, then the Whistlewind table, the Sterling table and at last the Drizzledrop table by the right wall.

A short witch was standing in front of the head table, looking around. She wore dark blue robes, and had her dark blonde hair braided down her back and blue eyes staring at them through square glasses.

"Now, we have a mid-year transfer who needs to be sorted, Mr. Potter, would you please come up here?" the witch asked kindly.

Harry, though nervous, rose and walked up to her while the students applauded kindly.

"I am Professor Douglas, and I am deputy headmistress here on Waratah Academy of Magic," she said with a gentle voice. "Now you will be sorted in a house. There are four houses; Lionpaw, Drizzledrop, Whistlewind and Starling. A Lionpaw is characterized by enthusiasm, honesty, assertiveness, bravery and independency. Drizzledrop consist of students who are especially connected to their emotions, while Whistlewinds think things through, are rational, logical and fair-minded, and sometimes a dreamer. A Starling is a cautious person, premeditative and reliable, down to earth, stable and hard-working. Do not worry if you can't find yourselves a perfect fit to one of those; you will be sorted in the house with which you share most traits."

Professor Douglas placed a glass ball in his hands, and everyone stared at it expectantly. It felt cold and smooth, and it appeared to be just glass because he could see his palms through it.

Then it lit up in bright red, startling him by the sudden light. It was still glowing when he handed it to Professor Douglas and walked over to the Lionpaw table, where the other students were applauding and smiling at him.

Julian moved over to make place beside him, and Harry sat down to be immediately congratulated by his fellow house members.

"Why didn't you tell me you are the boy-who-lived?" Julian asked.

"Because I don't want to be the boy-who-lived. I don't want special treatment because of it. I want to be just Harry," he said with a heavy sigh. There was no use of keeping it a secret any longer. He had hoped the Australians didn't know about him, but he was mistaken.

"Oh," Julian muttered.

"Does this have something to do with the fact that you are here, and not in Britain?" asked an older boy, probably around fifteen.

"Yes," Harry replied lowly. "Look, the students and the teachers, even the headmaster at Hogwarts hated me, made my life a hell. I couldn't stand it, and my aunt and uncle applied me to Waratah when I told them."

When he looked around some people, mostly the girls, had pity in their eyes, others had anger or surprise.

"Don't treat me any differently than you would to each other. I want to be normal," he added. "Please."

Silence followed for some seconds while he stared into the wooden table.

"We can do that, right guys?" sounded Julian's voice from his left.

"Right," the others agreed.

"Thanks," Harry said and turned to watch the remains of the Sorting.

When all the first-years had been sorted the Headmistress rose from her chair.

"Dinner is served." It was short and simple, and as soon as Professor Reaburn had sat down, food appeared on the tables.

Feeling his stomach growl in hunger Harry quickly helped himself with food. The feast was suddenly interrupted by a transparent greyish-silver figure entered the Great Hall in a great speed, shifting in the middle of the room and barging right through the tables and students to the Starling table, where it halted. First now Harry realized it was the ghost of a horse.

"You have a horse as a ghost?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yep. That's Starling. The house is named after him. He died saving most of the students in that house from a shark when they were swimming in the sea," Julian explained.

"Oh," Harry muttered and turned back to his food.

"So, Harry, do you play Quidditch?" asked a freckled dark-haired boy on about sixteen or seventeen years.

"Tim, would you hold it until at least the feast is done? Is Quidditch all you think about?" asked a girl exasperated.

"Quidditch is the world, Lissie. Now, Harry, do you?" Tim asked

Harry looked up from his heap of mashed potatoes and nodded. "I played last year at Hogwarts. I love it."

Tim grinned like a madman. "That's my boy! What position?"

"Seeker."

"Really? Then give it a shot at the tryouts. Our first seeker took a bludger in the head in the last match before the winter holidays – fell into coma, and still hasn't woken. Our second has got the Vanishing sickness, so the position is open," Tim told him. "I'm captain, by the way." He stretched his hand across the table. "Timothy Jones."

Harry grabbed his hand politely. "Pleasure. When is the tryout?"

"Um... I haven't decided yet. I was thinking of Saturday, maybe. I'll let you know."

"Great!"

After the meal Harry followed his house members through the castle to get to the common room. Like at Hogwarts, there were moving portraits, but very few since the castle was not so old. They climbed the eastern tower until they stood in front of a very big, bronze-coloured lion statue. It sat silently and watched them as they approached.

"Lizard tongue," said the prefect. At that the lion rose and stepped aside to reveal a hole in the wall.

Inside was a big common room, even bigger than the Gryffindor Tower, with a fireplace, couches, chairs and tables. Being dark outside Harry couldn't see what was outside, but he figured they had to be above ground since there were windows after all. Two stairs led up from the room, probably to the dormitories. Harry made his way up the stairs to the dormitory and opened the door. Five four-poster-beds were placed in the room, each with a window beside the head, and four of the beds were occupied. The one vacant was placed on the other side of the room to the door, and another door by the left wall probably lead to a bathroom.

Julian sat on the bed beside Harry's, and quickly introduced him to their roommates. Dylan had strawberry blonde boy and innocent blue eyes, Marcus was a tall boy with dark, almost black hair and freckles, while Jonathan was recognized by his warm, brown eyes and round face.

After shaking their hands Harry pulled out parchment from his trunk that was placed by the bed and quickly scribbled a letter to aunt Petunia before giving it to Hedwig.

"Is there an owlery here?" he asked Julian as he sent her away.

"Sure. The smaller tower beside the Southern Tower," Julian pointed out the window.

Harry nodded and went to brush his teeth and change into his pyjamas. When he returned the others had closed their curtains, so Harry just slipped into his bed and did the same. Within minutes he was fast asleep.

_A/N: Now I'm pretty nervous about what you think. I didn't want to copy Hogwarts too much, but on the other hand, since many Australians have ancestors from Britain I thought those who founded Waratah went to Hogwarts and used some ideas from Hogwarts._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

___ANC ANC ANC_

"Harry? Harry, you have to wake up." Marcus' voice roused him from his sleep.

Yawning, Harry kicked of the covers and climbed out of bed. "Thanks, Marcus. I'm just going to shower first," he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

It appeared that Jonathan was a heavy sleeper, because when Harry returned, his curtains were still shut, though Julian and Dylan made good attempts to wake him up.

"Aguamenti," Dylan pointed his wand towards Jonathan's sleeping form, and a jet of water emerged from the tip and hit his face.

The boys laughed as Jonathan jumped out of bed, spluttering.

"That was really not necessary," he said and stomped over to the bathroom.

Harry tied one of the Lionpaw ties the house-elves had placed on his night stand during the night and gazed at Dylan. What kind of spell was that?" he asked.

"The aguamenti charm? Well, it conjures water. We learned it last year," Dylan explained. "Didn't you? I mean, you have done first year as well?"

"Yeah, but the curriculum is harder here than at Hogwarts if I have understood correctly," Harry explained.

"Oh. Yes, that might be true. There's a lot of hard work here." Dylan nodded and tied his shoes loosely.

Harry spared himself a glance outside the window. A huge lake stretched across some sort of valley, and everything was surprisingly green. The castle was placed on the bank of the lake, so the water pressed against the walls on several places.

When Jonathan finally finished shower and got dressed the others were already on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He caught up with them about halfway, slightly out of breath.

The boys slumped down on the bench and helped themselves as a wizard with short, curly brown hair, kind face and dark red robes approached Harry with a smile on his face

"Welcome, Mr. Potter. I'm Professor Daniels, head of Lionpaw house and your Herbology Professor. Here is your timetable. I suggest you try to catch up with what we went through last year and before winter break. That way it will be easier to do well in class now," he said and handed him the timetable.

"Thanks, Professor," Harry replied and grabbed it. "Wow! This is insane!"

"Huh?" Julian stared at him in confusion.

"I mean, I knew there were more subjects than at Hogwarts, but I didn't know each of them would have so many classes. Almost everyone is double," Harry stared at the table exasperatedly. "We are supposed to choose more subjects for fourth year, right? They aren't going to fit in."

"Sure they are. We're going to quit International Magic – that's a small subject anyway, and History of Magic and Astronomy. The third years said we're going through hell in history this year."

"Great," Harry sighed.

"Double potions first," Julian commented, nodding slightly. "I like that!"

Harry stared at him. "Do you really like potions?"

"Yes. It's interesting."

"Oh. I had a really bad Professor last year, so I didn't really enjoy it. Might be different now, though," Harry told him as he dug his fork into the small heap of scrambled eggs.

"I bet! Professor McCay is really good. You have to read _Magical Plants and Herbs from A to Z and Five hundred Potions Ingredients _first, though, if not you can't manage. You have to understand all the ingredients of the potion to do it correctly."

"I can see why. I did horribly last year at Potions, but I read those two during winter, and I did understand a lot more," Harry replied.

When his plate was empty Harry left to get his bag in the dorm.

"Hey, wait for me!" Julian called and dashed after him.

Once in the dormitory Harry put his Potions books, potions set and Arithmancy book since they also had Arithmancy before lunch. Only thanks to Julian they managed to get to the Potions classroom at precisely seven O'clock. They had to go down a staircase leading from the Entrance Hall and down in the basement A wide-shouldered man with bright amber eyes unlocked the classroom door and let them in.

The classroom had a bluish tint, and Harry was surprised to see windows below the ground before he realized that what he saw was actually the lake. Desks were lined up in five rows, with place for two person on each desk. By the blackboard was an open door, revealing shelves with all kinds of potions ingredients Harry had never heard about.

Harry quickly sat down beside Julian and watched around at his classmates. There were four girls from Lionpaw, and then there were seven Whistlewinds. Everyone seemed to focus intently on the Professor, who made his way towards the blackboard.

"Good morning. Now; today we're going to work on antidotes. Can anyone mention one for me?" Professor McCay asked.

Harry looked around to see nearly everybody raising a hand. They had probably had about it before, but even then he was slightly surprised to see so many hands raised.

"Miss Waterford?" Professor McCay indicated to one of the Lionpaw girls.

"The wolfsbane potion, sir," she said.

"Correct. Ten points to Lionpaw. Can anyone tell me what the Wolfsbane Potion is for?" he asked and sat down on the edge of his desk, letting his gaze drift over the class.

This time only a few students put their hands up. Having read about it in the Potions book Harry also raised his hand.

"Yes, Miss Alexander?"

"It allows a werewolf to keep his mental state during the transformation," she replied.

"That's right. Ten points to Whistlewind, that is. We are not going to brew the Wolfsbane Potion until your fifth year, so for now, let's talk about the antidote to Veritaserum," he said and started a lecture Harry really valued, even though he had read most of the Potions book on the plane to Australia. Then they were told to brew the antidote to Veritaserum. That was a tricky one, Harry realized, but nevertheless moved to get the ingredients. He knew the basics of most of the ingredients, and when he was unsure he looked them up to confirm that he didn't do anything wrong when dealing with them, for instance cutting them too big.

Sometimes Professor McCay appeared at his side and peered into his cauldron with a curious expression.

He was so focused on his task he forgot the time, and startled when Professor McCay told them "Time's up. I want a vial from each of you. Remember to put your name on it, Mr. Williams," he said to a Whistlewind boy.

"Yes, Professor," the boy replied humbly.

Harry filled a vial and wrote his name on it before handing it to the professor. Then he emptied the cauldron in the sink, receiving a surprised glance from Julian.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. "Why didn't you just vanish it? Like this?" He waved his wand and muttered "Evanesco." The lilac potion in his cauldron disappeared.

"Um... I haven't learned that one. Did you learn it last year?"

"Yup. In transfiguration. I think we learned several hundred ways of transfiguration."

"You... you don't have your first year books here, do you?" Harry asked, hopeful. He was embarrassed by being so far behind his classmates and wanted to do something about it.

"Sure. I've got them in my trunk. You can borrow them if you want to," Julian said nonchalantly.

"That would be great."

They had just fifteen minutes to get to the Arithmancy classroom, which was on the second floor, so they had to run up all the stairs to get there in time. Luckily, here the staircases didn't move, but instead animal sculptures were running through the corridors.

The Arithmancy Professor Ives was a short, plump woman with welcoming eyes and a cheery voice. Her enthusiasm for her subject made it far more interesting than Harry had thought it would be.

"As you see, when you divide these numbers you'll have the answer, so simple is that," explained Professor Ives as the charmed chalk wrote numbers on the blackboard.

Julian leaned closer to Harry. "Did you understand that?" he whispered.

Harry nodded. "I think so."

"Mr. Pennington, Mr. Potter, no talking in class unless I've allowed you to. Mr. Pennington, you should be aware of this long time ago, and Mr. Potter, now you know. I don't know what kind of discipline they practice at Hogwarts, but I can assure you that here we value discipline highly, and you should remember that," she said in a calm, but firm voice that didn't leave any room for protests.

Harry blushed and nodded, slightly embarrassed. Snape had scolded him many times before, but Professor Ives' scolding was... convincing; you couldn't help but to obey her commands.

"I know I shouldn't be surprised of the difficulty," Harry said as they entered the Great Hall for lunch, "but I want to do well. I guess I have to spend the rest of the afternoon in the library. Where is it anyway?"

"Second floor, east wing. The door is labelled," Julian told him as he moved aside for a wild-running bobcat statue.

They joined the stream of students going for lunch to the Great Hall and sat down by the table. Harry had just helped himself with soup when Dylan nudged him hurriedly.

"Stand up, Harry," he whispered.

At that Harry realized that the Hall had turned entirely silent, and every student was standing beside the tables. He quickly got to his feet and started to look for a reason. He soon found it; everyone's eyes were directed towards Professor Reaburn who was entering the Great Hall.

Are they standing for their Headmistress coming for lunch? Harry wondered, frowning.

As soon as Professor Reaburn sat down on her chair by the head table the students sat down again, and the soft murmuring of many conversations filled the room.

"Why do we have to stand when the Headmistress comes for lunch?" Harry asked.

At that Tyler, a sixth year boy who sat ahead of him grew a serious and slightly offended face, and Harry immediately realized he shouldn't have asked.

"Harry, it's the Headmistress! We are to show her respect, because she is – she is the Headmistress," Tyler exclaimed, somewhat incredulously, as if he couldn't believe someone hesitated to stand for the Headmistress.

"Okay... I'll remember that," Harry said.

"You better."

The ghost of Starling was running around wildly between the tables, whining and kicking, but no one seemed to care.

"Has he been stung by a bee or something?" Harry wondered.

"No, he always does that," Dylan said, glancing at the ghost.

Harry frowned at this. "Is he the only ghost here?"

"Yes, thank god. It's bad enough having a ghost of a horse going crazy every day. We don't need others."

Afterwards they got their Transfiguration book and History book before going to double Transfiguration with Professor Magnolia, a redheaded witch whom Harry quickly figured to be a perfectionist. If they didn't manage to get it right, they would have to practice on their own.

"I will not see you here on Thursday without being able to transfigure a parchment into an owl," she said.

Harry sighed. This was far more difficult than transfiguring an owl into a parchment because now they had to make it alive too. As if owl-to-parchment transfiguration wasn't difficult enough.

"And I want you to write a text where you compare transfiguring live animals to objects, to transfiguring objects into animals till Monday next week. Class dismissed."

Luckily History of Magic was only one period, and when it was done, Harry was relieved. Even though he decided to study in the afternoon too, he couldn't help but find that more relaxing than in class, because then he could sit alone without having anyone watching him work and have peace.

In the boys' dormitory Julian handed him a stack of books he had dug out from his trunk. "It's only the defence book. The rest of them are the same as we use this year."

"Thanks," Harry said and dashed off towards the library.

It was big, even bigger than the one at Hogwarts, and that said something. He sat down by a table by a window and pulled out parchment, ink and a crane feather quill he had gotten at _Spots and Flops_ and started taking notes from Julian's defence book. There were probably close to two hundred spells in it in addition to explanations and theories about dark creatures and defensive magic. Harry was surprised to see what and how much they pushed upon a first year who had just started his magical education. He realized he was in for a rough time.

_Well, anything's better than Hogwarts_, he thought. _At least here people respect me and treat me like anyone else._

When he reached a new spell he tried it out, and figured he had to get back to the practical part of the spells later since he only managed a handful of them the first twenty attempts.

He almost missed dinner because of the work, but managed to get to the Great Hall fifteen minutes before dinner ended. Unfortunately, most of the food was gone, but he managed to scrape together a proper meal.

"Hey, Harry." Harry looked up to find Tim gazing at him. "Tryouts on Saturday, eleven O'clock on the pitch."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. "What position are you playing?"

"Chaser. Our team is pretty good, though the Whistlewinds are though competitors. They won the Cup last year," Tim told him eagerly. "So we have to beat them this year. We're already in the lead, but Whistlewind is close, so we have to train hard to make sure they don't get it."

Harry almost laughed by the enthusiastic ranting, but managed to bring it down to a wide grin. "Sounds good, Tim. Hope I can make the team, then."

"Which broom do you fly?"

"A Nimbus 2000."

"That has to be a British broom. I've never heard about it."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Probably."

When he was done eating Harry returned to the library to continue on the defence book. He was over halfway through it when Dylan peered around a bookshelf.

"Are you going to sit here the rest of the evening?" He asked.

"Uh... I guess. I don't want to make a fool of myself in class because I don't know all the stuff you do, so I intend to learn it," Harry explained.

"Okay. Can I help you, then?"

"I think I got it. At least defence."

"Yeah, just tell me if you need any help," Dylan turned to leave.

"Thanks," Harry called after him.

By curfew Harry had finished the book, except for managing the spells practically. Though that wasn't anything to mope at since he had only tried them once or twice. He managed a few of them, however.

He packed his stuff and headed back to the common room. Leo stared at him expectantly as he stopped in front of him. "Lizard tongue," he said.

"Indeed," Leo replied, his voice rumbling.

The common room was almost empty; Harry figured most of the students had gone to bed already, so he decided to do the same.

_ANC ANC ANC_

Charms the next morning only rubbed in how much behind the others Harry was, and even though Professor Alaaroonga showed him his understanding, he still bestowed Harry anb incredibly long list of charms they had done the previous year.

"And I want you all to read up on the enlargement charm and the shrinking charm since we are doing those on Thursday. I will quiz you on it," Professor Alaaronga said.

After International Magic class Harry spent the free period before lunch on trying the charms along with Jonathan and Julian. The difficulty on them was surprisingly high, and only a fraction of them he managed within the first ten attempts.

"It'll get better when you get used to the difficulty," Jonathan assured. "I'll tell you that I had to practice hours in order to do the locomotor spell."

Harry frowned. "But the locomotor spell is one particularly difficult spell, Jonathan," he said and pointed his wand on Dylan's pillow. "Accio."

"More focus on what you want, Harry," Julian said.

Harry repeated; "Accio!" The pillow flew towards him and hit him in his face, making the other two laugh.

"At least better than what I did; I accioed my charms book, and I didn't have any control, so it broke the window in the charms classroom and ended up in the lake," Julian said. Harry guffawed, dropping the pillow in the process.

"Depulso." The pillow sailed across the floor, ending beneath Jonathan's bed. "I hope Dylan won't be mad if we destroy the pillow," Harry said.

"No, no. Dylan would just find that hilarious. There's no problem to fix it. Mending charm, Harry," Jonathan said and grabbed the pillow from underneath his bed. He held it in front of him so Harry could try it once more.

"Yes, I know. I'll do that one afterwards." Harry paused to concentrate. "Accio!"

The pillow came towards him, but with it came Jonathan and crashed into Harry. "Ow!"

"Sorry," Harry apologized and glanced at Julian, who was laughing loudly while clutching his stomach.

"You need more control of it so you can stop it before it hits you," Jonathan said and pushed himself off of Harry.

"I'll try." Harry flung the pillow onto Dylan's bed and aimed his wand at it. "Accio!" The pillow flew towards him, stopping in the air right in front of him and dropped to the floor by his feet.

"Um, Harry, you're supposed to catch it with your hands," Julian said, grinning madly.

"Yes, but at least I made it. A few more times now, so I'm sure I've got it."

By the time lunch was served Harry had not only managed the summoning charm and the banishing charm, but also the mending spell by breaking a glass over and over to mend it again. There were many other spells, and he planned to do those after Herbology.

Professor Daniels had them working on extracting milk from Bubbleflowers. That was an interesting experience since the Bubbleflowers moved and protested once you grabbed its stem, and spat milk in your face. You had to grab the blue bubble shaped flower if you wanted to do anything with it at all, but Professor Daniels didn't tell them that on purpose.

"I wanted you to figure it out by yourselves," he smiled.

"Great. Now I'm full of milk, and the plant nearly empty," Harry complained and grabbed the once fist-sized flower. It now had the size of a galleon.

"Thank god it does't smell like stinksap," grumbled Dylan and dried his face on the sleeve of his shirt. Pulling out his wand he tapped his shirt: "Tergeo."

Harry sighed as he watched the milk disappear and leave behind a clean shirt. There was a lot of work ahead of him, but he was intent to catch up on it, even if that meant he would spend most of his free time studying.

_A/N: Now I'm pretty nervous about what you think. I didn't want to copy Hogwarts too much, but on the other hand, since many Australians have ancestors from Britain I thought those who founded Waratah went to Hogwarts and used some ideas from Hogwarts._


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

Classes moved very fast forwards. Even the brightest student had to work hard not to fall behind, and to fall behind was not an option. For Harry, having to go learn a lot outside the class, it was exhausting. After having used almost every free moment during the week on trying to catch up with his classmates he allowed himself a few hours on his broom Friday afternoon in preparation of tomorrow's tryouts.

It felt good to finally be on a broom again after a break of seven months. He was a bit rusty, but after short time he felt he had regained the control of his broom again.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" asked one of the Lionpaw girls in his year, Tiarni.

Harry glanced at her over the table. "Good. Why?"

"I was just wondering if you were nervous for the tryouts," she explained.

"Oh." Harry hesitated. "A little, yeah."

"I'm sure you'll do great," Dylan said.

"Shut it, Dylan," Jonathan said, "You haven't even seen him fly."

Dylan merely glared at his friend and returned to shovelling scrambled eggs into his mouth. Harry checked his watch for the tenth time since they came down for breakfast, and sighed when it only showed ten fifteen.

"Who else is going to try out?" he asked.

"Why would we know?" Jonathan replied carelessly, "We don't as every Lionpaw if they are or not."

"To your information, Jonathan, I know that Anne Cartwright over there," Marcus indicated towards a slender blonde girl further up the table, "is going to go for the seeker position. She's a fifth year, Harry, and I think she has some experience."

Harry studied her critically for a moment to evaluate his opponent. "Is she the only one?"

"I doubt it, but I don't know of anyone else."

Harry sighed and pulled out the Charms book to make the time pass

"Will you just put away those books for the weekend?" Julian declared and snapped the book from the table. "You've done nothing but studying all week."

"I can't. I have to catch up with you guys," Harry took back the book and re-opened it.

"And to get an E on the potion on Monday?" Dylan raised an eyebrow and gazed at him quizzically.

"Look, I only did my best. I've never got an E in potions, and I didn't even think it would be possible for me to do that, especially not here, or at the first attempt," Harry tried to defend himself.

"The teachers at Hogwarts _are_ hog's warts, you know that, Harry," said Julian firmly, "especially that potions teacher you told us about."

Harry had to smile at name they had given the students and staff at Hogwarts. The reason of why Harry had transferred was by now widely known, and the reception had been surprisingly good. Many students had taken to use the name, though none of the teachers knew about that. Harry imagined they wouldn't be very satisfied if they heard it.

"Professor Magnolia would probably have given us a whole week of detention if she knew," Jonathan declared.

As the clock approached eleven Julian and Jonathan followed Harry to the Quidditch pitch, agreeing to meet Marcus and Dylan there later. Tim was already standing on the sand covered floor with six others behind him and a small group of students facing him. Harry figured they had to be the others who were fighting for the place on the team, and joined them.

A few minutes passed before Tim spoke: "Seems to be everyone. Then we can start. My name is Timothy Jones for those who don't know, captain and Chaser on the Lionpaw team. We're just going to hold a tryout for the seeker position, since we already have a full main team and reserve team otherwise. So if you can mount your brooms, we'll do some laps first.

Harry did as he was told and started circling the pitch while watching the others. Everyone easily did the same, and they were soon told to do more complex manoeuvres, like diving in high speed and pulling out of the dive as close to the ground as they could. Then Tim paired them up in a competition for the snitch. Harry's opponent was a tall fifth year boy with somewhat dark skin and a few features that made Harry think he was half or a quarter aboriginal.

Tim let go of the snitch and counted to five before the two of them shot off to find it. Harry circled the pitch within a decent distance from Will, as Tim had called the other boy, constantly searching for the snitch and sometimes glancing at Will for any signs of him having seen the snitch and was only tricking him. It took a while for any of them to spot it, and luckily for Harry he was the first and got a head start of Will, zooming towards the small, golden ball on the other end of the pitch.

Will chased after him to catch up, and did so eventually, but Harry refused to fall behind, so he kept up his speed. Now came the difficult part. The snitch was hovering close to one of the stands, making it difficult to avoid crashing. Harry stretched out his hand and at the same time prepared to turn sharply to the left. Will was by his right side, his long arms coming to his advantage, so Harry urged his broom to go even faster.

He wasn't sure if he had gotten the snitch before he turned left, inches from the stand. But then he could feel it fluttering against his palm and grinned. Looking back after Will he found him lying on the sand below the stand, probably having collided.

Harry decided to go down and check on him.

"Are you okay?" he asked as his feet touched the ground.

Will lifted his head and looked at him with a smile. "Yeah. I broke my leg, though, but otherwise I'm okay. You are a hell of a flyer, you know that, Potter?" he chuckled.

Harry sighed in relief. "Thanks," he said as Tim and his team mates came over.

"That was really good, Harry," said Edward, one of the beaters as he pulled out his wand and conjured a stretcher. "I'll take him to the Hospital Wing." He levitated Will onto the stretcher and then walked off with the stretcher floating in the air beside him.

"Now let's move on with the tryouts," Edward said. "Who's got the snitch?"

Harry held out his hand to reveal the golden ball.

"Good. You two were the last ones, so we can just gather around. I've made up my mind," said Tim.

At that Harry felt very nervous. He walked over to the others and waited for the conclusion.

"All of you did very well," Tim began. "But there is one who is one step ahead of the rest of you. Harry, you proved to be the best, so you will be our new seeker."

Harry couldn't stop his smile. "Thanks."

"Training tomorrow at three pm, okay?"

"Sure."

_ANC ANC ANC_

Outside the pitch Julian and Dylan were waiting for him with wide grins on their faces.

"I knew you would make it when I saw that move at the end there!" Julian exclaimed enthusiastically. "It was amazing, how did you know when to turn?"

Harry hesitated. "Um... experience, I guess. But I had to get the snitch before Will, so either I would make it or I would crash. Of course, I could have taken it from another angle so I didn't have to turn in front of the stands anyway, but Will was too close."

"Yeah, anyway, you are our new seeker!" Dylan said.

"Now, all we have left is to practice hard if we're supposed to win that cup," Harry reasoned.

Harry was hoping for a reply from aunt Petunia when the mail arrived some weeks later. There were several of the same kind as the big owl Julian had, others were smaller and grey, and then there were some which had brown specked feathers. One of the grey owls dropped a newspaper in Dylan's lap and sat down on the table to wait for money, which Dylan put in a leather pouch tied to its leg.

A Barn Owl landed on the table before him, shifting unsteadily as it looked at him. It seemed to be very tired, so Harry hurried to take the letter and gave it a rather large piece of bacon. While it ate he looked at the letter. The hand-writing was unfamiliar to him, so he cast a spell-revealing charm on it, but nothing happened.

Hedwig chose that moment to soar in and land beside his plate, snapping a piece of bacon before allowing him to take the letter she carried, so he decided to read the first one later and put it in his bag. She glanced disapprovingly at the other owl and left again.

This one was from aunt Petunia. He unfolded it and started to read.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope they treat you well at school. If not, please tell me. Vernon has landed the huge business deal he was talking about before you left, and wanted me to tell you that it was thanks to your idea about showing Mr. Johnson the A40 model instead of the T2. _

_Dudley has surprised me; once he got home today, he did his homework immediately, and then ran out with his friends. You know he didn't care much about school before, so I'm very happy about the changes he has gone through over the summer._

_Please tell us about your school. I know we don't know much about the world of magic, but we want to learn about it since you are such a big part of it._

_Aunt Petunia._

___ANC ANC ANC_

"Hey, Harry, they want you back in Britain," Jonathan said and showed him the front page of _The Jungle Telegraph. _A big picture of Harry covered the page, with the text above: _Boy-who-lived gone from Britain._

"Too bad. I'm not going back to that school," he said firmly and re-folded the letter before putting it in his bag.

A loud voice from the Whistlewind table attracted the attention of the people in the hall, and a boy Harry recognized as Samuel Gandangara from Potions class stood up on his bench and started reading: "_In August Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry received a resignation letter from Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Potter has not been seen in Britain ever since. The British Ministry has been searching for him the last month, but last week Minister Cornelius Fudge stated that they have given up the search._

_Further, Mr. Potter's former friend Ron Weasley says to the British newspaper The Daily Prophet that "Potter is an arrogant git, and he never thinks about anything but himself. He always tries to find ways to get into the limelight."_

_The Jungle Telegraph journalist has to ask, would Mr. Potter have left Britain in the first place had he wanted the limelight?"_ The Great Hall had been dead silent while he read, but now they started murmuring. "Well, I think that's just some piece of shit! Look at him! He would rather hide than have any attention."

"What about Quidditch? He made the team, didn't he?" a voice from the Drizzledrop table called.

Samuel turned towards Harry. "Why do you play Quidditch, Potter?"

Harry hesitated as every eye in the hall was on him. "Because it makes me feel free, like nothing else matters in the world. Because I love the game."

"Well, there you go," Samuel said and pointed his want at the newspaper. "Incendio." The paper suddenly caught fire, and burning pieces dropped to the stone floor.

Harry got to read the letter in the free period between Arithmancy and Herbology, so he sat down in the library where his friends were already trying to finish the Herbology essay in last minute.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear Harry,_

_Why have you dropped out of school? What's going on? The Daily Prophet says that you have possibly left the country. Where are you? We hope you will believe us when we say we support you. Our dear little brother took the cake with that article in the Prophet – we don't know if you have read it, but he had said that you were an arrogant git, so we yelled at him and hexed him. Of course, we got detention for it, but it was worth it._

_We also burned every copy of that edition found in Hogwarts, and we intend to repeat the procedure if the paper publishes another article with foul comments._

_After that Neville Longbottom told us that he agreed with us. Surprising, isn't it, that the shyest boy at Hogwarts outs his opinion while the rest of the school disagrees with him. Suppose that's why he's in Gryffindor, though._

_Your friends, Fred and George._

___ANC ANC ANC_

Harry had to smile. He believed every word of it, and was glad to have at least someone in Britain supporting him. Also, the twins were reliable. They were pranksters, but had wits and sense between their ears. Yes, he could trust them, he decided.

"Another letter?" Marcus wondered.

"Yes. From Fred and George, twins and the greatest pranksters at Hogwarts. They supported me even before I left Hogwarts, in the midst of all the turmoil," Harry grinned and handed him the letter. "Read."

Marcus read it out loud, gaining the attention from Julian, Jonathan and Dylan as well.

"They sound really cool!" Julian commented.

"They are," Harry agreed and pulled out a piece of parchment, ink and his quill in order to write a reply.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear Fred and George,_

_I'm glad you support me, and I want you to know that it means a lot to me. I'm good, better than in a long time. My aunt and uncle changed over the summer, and they treat me very nice. When I told them how things were at Hogwarts they applied me to another school, and we moved from the country. Things are great here; everyone is so kind and friendly, though there's strict discipline. That probably has something to do with it._

_I'd like to keep in touch with you._

_Harry._

___ANC ANC ANC_

Harry folded the letter and placed it in his bag to send it later before he pulled out his transfiguration book to finish reading the first year curriculum. He had done the other subjects by now, but Transfiguration was the most difficult, he thought.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear aunt Petunia, uncle Vernon and Dudley,_

_The workload here is immense. I'm sure that we have already learned hundred ways of transfiguration already, and I'm surprised that I can hang on to the workload. We go through at least two ways of transfiguration each class, and if we can't do them by the end of the class we have to practice after school, because the next lesson we get something else to work on. It's like that in almost every class._

_At least Potions is now interesting. Professor McCay is so much better than Snape. Julian claims that I've finally seen the light – he loves potions, and he's really good at it, though he is crap in Charms (he admits it himself). Though, if he was at Hogwarts he would get an A straight away. A is equivalent to a C in muggle schools, and the lowest passing grade._

_Anyway, Tim is pushing us hard at practice. We have been practicing four days a week because everyone is so intent on winning the House Cup this year. I'd like you to come and watch, though there's only one match left before the Christmas holidays. I can ask my Head of House if you can._

_Harry._

_Dear Neville,_

_Fred and George told me what you told them. Thanks for supporting me. I want you to know it means a lot to me, and if you want to we can keep in touch._

_Harry._

___ANC ANC ANC_

The next Quidditch match was in late October, and the grounds surrounding Waratah was covered in colourful flowers, signalizing the spring. Harry was nervous, but he was also very excited about the match, though he felt reasonably sure that they would make it. After all, they had trained almost every other day the last month. They would be playing Whistlewind, and Tim's speech had been a strong competitor to Oliver Wood's. Headmaster Reaburn had agreed to allow Harry's family to come and watch the match, even if that meant allowing muggles inside the shields.

"Now, the Lionpaw team," called the speaker. "Jerry Richardson, Timothy Jones, Megan Harper, Catherine Oldfield, Edward Gordon, Li Cheng and Harry Potter!"

The team shot out of the corridor and onto the pitch where the Whistlewinds were already waiting.

"Captains, shake hands!" called the referee Mr. Woodford, and Tim shook hands with the Whistlewind captain before the balls were released.

"The Quaffle is in the air, and Harper catches it, passes to Oldfield, Harper – ow! An ugly tackle from Johnson there. Whistlewind has the Quaffle, passes to Young, back to Johnson, Young aims for the goal... a close one, that!"

Harry shut out the voice and searched for the snitch in the slightly grey sky. The Whistlewind seeker Lindsey Camm followed him closely, apparently wary of him. Deciding to try to get rid of her he pretended to have seen the snitch hovering low above the ground and dived, quickly increasing the speed. Just as he had hoped for Camm followed him.

"Potter seemed to have spotted the snitch, and Camm is following close behind!" called the speaker as Harry and Camm raced towards the ground.

If Camm was enough focused on him instead of what was in front of them Harry knew she would fail, and so he pulled out of the dive in the last minute. Hearing a thud behind him he figured Camm had crashed, and a glance backwards confirmed his suspicion. She was struggling to get on the broom again.

He let his gaze travel to find the snitch as the crowd cheered for another goal.

"And Johnson scores! Seventy – sixty, Lionpaw still in the lead!"

Out of the corner of his eye Harry caught sight of the snitch right in front of the stands, and hurled towards it

"Seems like Potter's move was just a trick, 'cause now he's off again, and this time I really think he has spotted the snitch!"

Harry didn't know whether he caught the snitch or not because the next moment he crashed into the stand in great speed and blacked out.

When he woke he could still see the sky above him, but also the figures of his teammates, looking at him with worried expressions.

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry groaned and pushed himself upright. The right side of his body hurt like hell, but moving his body confirmed that it wasn't broken.

"Yeah."

"Did you get the snitch?"

With a wide grin he held up the snitch, making the Lionpaws in the stands cheer wildly.

"Potter has got the snitch, Lionpaw wins two hundred and forty to seventy against Whistlewind!" the speaker shouted.

His teammates jumped and hugged and screamed to each other and Harry in pure happiness.

"We won the cup!" Tim shouted and started dancing around the pitch with Catherine, who laughed heartily.

___ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? Where are you? Are you coming back soon? I was worried when you didn't appear on the train, and thought that they had finally got you. Actually, I'm kind of glad that you left. You deserve better than what you've been through._

_My grandmother agrees with the Prophet and the rest of the school, but I've tried to make her see reason. After all, you don't want the attention; I don't understand how the others didn't see that._

_Neville._

___ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear Harry,_

_Can't you just tell us where you are? We're tired of guessing. We figured it was a country with a magical school, and that it's far away, but that's not enough. At least tell us a reason for why you won't tell us, 'cause we are not going to tell anyone. It's not like Dumbledore will try to bring you back to Hogwarts; he doesn't seem to care. Professor McGonagall, however, hasn't been the same since you left. We think she cared about you a lot._

_Anyway, we have had the stupidest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year. People love him because he wrote a lot of books about some heroic deeds he claimed he did, but actually didn't and we haven't learned anything from him because he only talked about himself in class, so we have huge loads of work we have to do outside defence class in order to just pass._

_No one knows that we are writing to you, but I think Ginny, our little sister, have a suspicion. She hasn't said anything yet, though._

_Your friends, Fred and George._

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry quickly folded the letter and headed towards the basement for his practical Potions exam, this being the first practical of the year's exams since all the written ones were done. He was nervous, because he had no idea what kind of potion they had to brew. He was sure it was going to be a tough one, so he had spent hours the day before repeating all the potions in _Potion-brewing: a guide to the perfect potion _for the third time in three weeks.

Once outside the Potions classroom he found the door closed, so he figured Juliana still had to be in there. He slouched against the wall and ran through the recipe for the Pompous Potion in his head.

What if he did a mistake? What if he knocked over the cauldron or put one too many bezoar in an antidote or stirred too few times or the wrong way? His heart was thundering in his chest, and his hands were sweaty. Every third second he glanced at the door, but it still remained shut. How long time had Juliana really used? Shouldn't she be finished by now?

Suddenly the door barged open, and a girl with long, chestnut hair strode out of the room with a worried expression. Juliana merely glanced at him before running up the stairs from the basement.

"Mr. Potter?" sounded a voice from inside. "It's your turn. Please enter.

Harry inhaled sharply and stepped inside. Professor McCoy sat in the front of the room, beside the blackboard along with two other wizards, who would ensure a realistic evaluation. Beside them was a table with glasses and vials containing different ingredients.

"This is Mr. Kane and Mr. Lovell. You know the rules, Mr. Potter, no books, and only the ingredients we have picked out for you. The recipe is on the blackboard," said Professor McCoy.

"Yes, Professor," said Harry and studied the text written on the black surface.

A Blindness Potion! That was one of the hardest potions they had brewed, and Harry felt slightly unsure of whether he could make it or not. In any case, he was going to try his best; that was expected of him, both from himself and from his professor. The class had brewed it last autumn, so he had been allowed to brew those potions outside class, under Professor McCoy's supervision, of course. Last time he had received an E, but now he wanted to go for an O, even how difficult it might be.

"You may start."

Harry quickly retrieved the necessary ingredients and started preparing the moonseeds. They were poisonous, he knew that, but poison often claimed a person's sight, and that was what the Blindness Potion was for. However, with the other ingredients he could reduce the poison, so it only took one's sight for a few hours.

Having the three wizards watching his every movement was more than a little unnerving in the beginning, but soon he forgot them and did only focus on the potion.

After an hour the potion had an ugly mustard yellow colour. He finished by waving his wand over the cauldron, turning it butter yellow instead, and stepped back.

"I'm done, sirs." He said. "If you want to, I can add the flower head of a Roselip flower to reduce the pain effects."

Mr. Lovell raised his eyebrows at him. "How do you know that?" he asked, sounding slightly surprised.

Harry hesitated. "Um... I knew that the Roselip flower had pain-relieving abilities, and I tested it out," He said warily and lowered his gaze to the ground.

"You can do that, Mr. Potter, and then hand it in."

Harry nodded and quickly found the flowers he was searching for amidst the rest of the ingredients before he slipped one into the cauldron. It melted away in seconds, and Harry filled a vial with potions, labelled it and handed it to Professor McCoy before he moved to empty the cauldron.

"Wait, Mr. Potter. Just leave the potion there," Mr. Kane said.

"Yes, sir," Harry said automatically, even though he was slightly confused. Shrugging, he decided not to ask, and left the room. Now, only five to go, he thought as he went to find Marcus.

He had said he would be in the library, going through his notes for the Transfiguration exam the next day. Marcus, like Harry, was concerned about his abilities, but he still claimed that Harry was a step ahead of him.

"Have I ever managed to transfigure a bluebell to a grandfather clock? No. Have you? Yes!" Marcus had exclaimed when Harry had come up with a protest.

"It wasn't very good, though," Harry argued, "the pendant was blue still."

"Yes, but it was perfect in every other way. It even chimed every hour," Dylan had put in. "I bet you can do a clock tower too."

Surprisingly, Transfiguration exam consisted of bluebell transfiguration. As Harry walked into the room there was one additional person there, instead of two like in his Potions exam. A jar with bluebells was placed on the table in front of them, and Harry was told to pick one.

"And then transfigure it into a clock," said Mr. Winters.

"A clock, sir? What kind of clock? A clock tower, a grandfather clock or just an ordinary clock?" asked Harry and picked one flower.

"Clock tower!" Mr. Winters exclaimed surprised.

"Um... okay, but then I might have to move it outside, or else it'll destroy the castle," Harry said innocently.

"No, no, no. First do a normal clock."

Harry did so.

"And return it to a bluebell?"

Harry did that too.

"Concerning the bluebells that's about it, but if you can show me a grandfather clock..." Mr Winters said, eyeing Harry curiously.

Harry muttered the incantation and waved his wand so the bluebell on the table expanded and turned into a grandfather clock that chimed as the long arm hit twelve.

"Did you say you could do a clock tower too?" Mr. Winters asked.

"Yes, sir, I tried it after I found it in a book."

"Which book?"

Harry rolled on his toes nervously. "One on transfiguration I found in the library, sir."

"In the library, hm?" Mr. Winters said, unnerving Harry even more. "You are aware that not even an eighth year is expected to do that?"

Surprised, Harry shook his head and blushed.

"Well, maybe you could show me? It will give you bonus points, of course."

"Yes, sir," Harry said and used the locomotor spell to move the bluebell out the open window as Mr. Winters and Professor Magnolia followed to watch. Then he transfigured it.

Mr. Winters took off his oval-shaped glasses and stared at the clock tower right outside the window with open mouth. "That is... very impressive," he murmured.

"Thank you, Mr. Winters," Harry said politely.

"Will – will you turn it back too? I doubt Waratah would do well with two clock towers," he said and sat down on his chair again.

"Yes, sir." A moment later the tower was gone.

"Let's move on with the other parts of this exam."

Half an hour later Harry strode out of the classroom, relieved. He was sure he had done it correctly, especially the part with the bluebell. In the end Professor Magnolia had told Mr. Winters that Harry transferred in early august, and had to catch up with the rest of the class. Mr. Winters' impressed face had stuck to Harry's brain since that.

"How did you do?" asked Dylan when he reached the common room.

"Okay, I think," Harry replied and sat down to watch him and Jonathan playing Exploding Snap.

"I totally messed up the clock. All the numbers were missing," Jonathan said. "I hope I pass still."

First the next morning Harry remembered Fred and George's letter, and quickly scribbled a reply:

ANC ANC ANC

_Dear Fred and George,_

_I'm not telling you where I am. If this letter ends up in wrong hands I don't want old Dumbledore come searching for me as you said you heard him mutter about needing me under his control to defeat Voldemort. It's already risky that you write to me, since if he learns you do, he might put trace charms on the owls._

_Anyway, I thought a strong wizard like Dumbledore could defeat Voldemort himself, what does he need me for? If you hear anything, please let me know. Our newspaper does not tell much from Britain._

_Best wishes,_

_Harry._

_ANC ANC ANC_

He took the letter to the owlery, and Hedwig descended from her perch and landed on his arm. "Fancy a trip to Hogwarts, girl?" he asked.

Hedwig hooted and allowed him to tie the letter to her leg before she took off. Now, being of the hottest part of the year, she would love to go to snow-covered Scotland, Harry figured and left to practice some charms for today's exam.

Harry lay stretched out on the grass by the bank of the Great Lake. All the exams were finished, and the students enjoyed the hot weather, either lounging on the grass, or swimming in the lake.

Dylan was lying on his back, studying the clouds, Jonathan and Marcus were trying to keep the Exploding Snap cards from flying in the wind, and Julian was shooting blue sparks from his wand in pure boredom.

"I hope we'll learn conjuration next year," Harry said.

The others looked at him.

"Don't say you're already thinking about next year?" Dylan replied, frowning.

"So? I want to learn how to conjure bigger things than aguamenti," he explained.

"Yeah, I'm sure we'll learn it. After all, Megan conjured a bouquet of flowers, and she's a third year," Marcus said.

"What are you guys going to do in the holidays? Except for celebrating Christmas, of course?" asked Jonathan and glanced up from his cards, which chose that moment to explode. "Damn it!"

Harry laughed. "I'm not sure. I have no plans other than doing my homework."

"Talking about homework," said an adult voice behind them. Professor Daniels was walking towards them with his usual smile on his face, "I've got the list from the other professors, so if you please go to the greenhouses and wait there, I'll get the other second years." With that he walked away again, leaving behind a group of confused boys.

"Homework? I am so sick of homework right now!" Dylan exclaimed.

"Well, you don't have to do them right away," Jonathan said as he got up from the ground. "Let's go."

They headed down to the greenhouses where several other second years were already waiting. Soon Professor Daniels arrived with another group of students trailing behind him and a bunch of parchment in his hand.

"There is one other reason why I told you to gather, because the Herbology homework consists of taking care of a Roselip flower," he said, and even though several students obviously disliked that idea, they didn't say anything. The school's strict discipline had made sure to erase most complaints from the students.

"We will be working on that next year, and you can find information of how to treat them in M_agical plants and herbs from A to Z_," he declared while he handed out the list of homework. "They will be evaluated when you return in February." Then he took them inside, where the table was filled with pots of flowers with a rather long stem and leaves sparsely spread along it, but mostly at the bottom. The flower head was big, slightly bigger than an orchid flower, and was shaped like big lips with slightly uneven edges. The colour was bright pink except for in the middle, close to the stigma, where it was white. They moved independently, twisting and bending in every direction, sometimes tangling into each other.

"I want each of you to take one of these with you, and please do your best," said Professor Daniels.

The students moved forwards and picked one each. Harry took one with two flowers and went outside to wait for his friends.

"I don't see the purpose of this," Dylan complained.

Marcus studied his single stem Roselip with a critical expression. "At least it will teach you to be more responsible."

"What? You think I'm irresponsible?" Dylan asked incredulously.

"Huh? I bet five galleons that your Roselip is dead when you return to school," Marcus challenged, meeting Dylan's defiant gaze.

"Deal!" Dylan grabbed his hand and shook it. "I'll show you irresponsible," he muttered.

Harry merely snorted, and jumped as one of his plant's flowers attached itself to his cheek like a suction cup. As he pulled the plant away it let go, but had its flower directed towards him as if staring at him.

"What?" he exclaimed. "Why did it do that?"

"Do what?" Jonathan asked as he approached from the greenhouse.

Suddenly Dylan's plant sucked on to Dylan's neck, and they had to laugh because it looked so funny.

"That," Marcus said, grinning.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I don't know what I want to do with Sirius and Lupin, so if you guys have any suggestions, feel free to tell me._


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

"Do you find anything?" asked Dylan and leaned over to look in the Herbology book Harry was holding.

"Plenty," Harry replied and started reading. "_Roselips are magical flowers that are often used in potions with the ability to ease pain. They have long stems which are sparsely covered with leaves and a lip-shaped flower. Also, they move on their own accord and tend to "kiss" things, especially human skin. Their kisses are harmless, but usually leads to hickey-like bruises. Roselips also do well in homes as long as they get access to light four to six hours daily. If it gets more or less their "mood" will drop, and they will appear fatigued. Also, since they are native to the regions of Mackay and Northern Queensland, they are adapted to heavy rainfall, and will need watering twice daily._"

"Does it say anything about why they kiss?" Julian asked and glanced out of the compartment window on the passing landscape below.

"Not much, but they use them more often on people they feel affection for or treat them well." Harry frowned. "That's the first plant I've met which has emotions."

"Yeah, welcome to the world of magic, Harry," Marcus said, smiling slyly.

"I think they are pretty," Jonathan said, "too bad we will end up with hickeys all over, then."

"I think that depends," Harry said. "The book says they have different personalities."

"Now I'm pretty sure I'm going to win that bet," Marcus commented. "Dylan can't possibly keep alive a plant which needs water twice daily."

"Yes, I can, and I'm going to prove it to you!" Dylan said indignantly.

Marcus merely snorted and didn't answer.

In the afternoon the carriage started to descent, and Sydney came into view. Just ten minutes later they landed on platform 11 ½. Then there was a lot of chaos as the students climbed out of the carriage and tried to find their family on the platform.

"Harry, you'll write, won't you?" asked Julian.

"Sure," Harry said and placed Hedwig's empty cage on top of the trunk on the trolley, and his broom and the Roselip beside it with a box covering it from muggles' eyes. It wouldn't do well if they got sight of an independently moving plant.

"Bye, guys," he called as they disappeared in the crowd, and he headed for the barrier.

"Bye!"

Harry crossed the barrier and decided to wait beside it so his family could find him easier. The airport was also crowded, but with muggles who were going on Christmas vacation. They didn't even offer him a glance, even though he had an empty bird cage and a broomstick on his trolley.

After a few minutes he spotted Dudley's familiar face among the crowd and waved.

"Hey, Harry!" he called and pushed through the last group of people.

He had lost considerable weight, and his eyes were sparkling with life.

"Hi. How are you, Dudley?" Harry asked.

Then uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia came into view, smiling at him.

"I'm great! I've started boxing, so you can see, something has changed," Dudley grinned and tapped his stomach.

"Hi Harry! Welcome home," aunt Petunia said and hugged him.

"Thanks. Hello, uncle Vernon."

"Hello, Harry. How was school?"

Harry smiled widely. "Great. It's amazing, I can't thank you enough for applying me."

"No problem, Harry. You deserve it," uncle Vernon said and lead the way out of the building. He stopped in front of the car and started loading it. "What do you have in here?" He asked, pointing at the box with the Roselip.

"My Herbology homework," Harry replied innocently and climbed inside the car

Uncle Vernon raised his brows in wonder before closing the rear door.

"We saw your Quidditch match, Harry. It looked really scary, I was afraid you were going to die when you crashed!" aunt Petunia told him.

Harry smiled. "People don't normally die in a Quidditch match."

"It was cool to watch," Dudley said as the car started rolling from the parking lot. "And you guys flew incredibly fast! I thought you were really good compared to that girl."

"Thanks, Dudley. Our captain had been pushing us really hard before the match. It was important to him to win it, because if we did, we would win the Cup," Harry explained.

"You did, didn't you?"

Harry smiled and nodded.

"So Harry, how did the exams go?" asked uncle Vernon.

"Well, I think. But we will have to wait for the grades to be sure. Next year's exams are going to be worse. That's a bigger exam," Harry said as he glanced out the window.

"How so?" wondered aunt Petunia.

"The grades are crucial if you want to continue that subject. So far it hasn't mattered whether you failed or not, but if you fail on the third year exam you can't continue that subject, and you'll lose much valuable knowledge as well as a job which might require that subject."

"Oh. Let's hope you pass. I know you partially explained the grade system in the letters, but I didn't find any order," she said.

Harry had to smile at that. "Well, there are six grades; three passing and three failing. Equal to a muggle A – the top grade, is O, which stands for Outstanding. Then you have E, which is Exceeds Expectations – a muggle B. The C would be an A in the wizarding world; it stands for Acceptable. That's the three passing grades. The first failing grade is P for Poor, and then D for Dreadful, and T for Troll."

"Troll?" asked Dudley.

"Yeah. They're real, you know. And dangerous. I fought one on Halloween at Hogwarts."

"You fought a troll?" aunt Petunia exclaimed. "Oh dear! How could Dumledoor possibly do that to an eleven-year-old? That man has no sense!"

"The Weasley twins agree with you, aunt Petunia. They wrote that he was an old coot," Harry grinned, and Dudley broke into laughter.

"The Weasley twins?" aunt Petunia repeated and glanced at him quizzically.

"Yes. They are the older brothers of my supposed-to-be friend Ron, but they are two of few people at Hogwarts who actually support me," Harry said.

"Didn't you get some friends at Waratah too?" uncle Vernon wondered.

"Yes. Everyone is nice to me, though, even those in the other houses. Inter-house grudges are not accepted very well."

"Are your teachers very strict?" uncle Vernon wondered.

"They are, but they are understanding and kind, though. They would always listen if you asked something. What they want is to teach us discipline and to show respect for others," Harry told them.

"What do they do?"

"Um... you are to stand up when the headmistress enters the room; you are not allowed to speak in class unless told to by the professor; you are not to complain, at least not in front of a professor; of course you always address the professors or anyone else with 'sir' or 'madam', or 'professor' is that's what they are. When given an order you are to follow it without protesting."

"Really? That much? I'm so glad I'm not at your school, Harry," Dudley said.

Harry laughed. "It's not that bad as soon as you get used to it. The first time we had to stand for the headmistress I asked why, and the others looked at me as if I was crazy. Respect and discipline is drilled into you almost the moment you enter the school."

When the car stopped in front of the house Harry noticed Hedwig looking out through the kitchen window.

"How long has she been here?" he asked.

"She arrived yesterday, probably waiting for you. She's very intelligent," aunt Petunia said.

"I know," Harry said and pulled his things out of the car.

Inside he placed the Roselip on the commode in the hall and pulled his trunk and broom up to his room. Hedwig's cage was placed in the cupboard since aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had gotten her an open perch by the window. Then he changed from his school uniform to a more relaxed outfit and headed downstairs again.

Uncle Vernon was already lounging in a sun chair in the garden, correcting Dudley, who was playing croquet. Aunt Petunia came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with sandwiches and a mug of juice and ice cubes. She smiled at Harry as she passed him in the doorway and placed the tray on the table beside uncle Vernon.

"We're going to have dinner later, Harry, so I made these meanwhile. I guess you're hungry after having travelled all day?"

"Thanks, aunt Petunia," he said and sat down in a vacant chair.

She eyed him with a frown for a moment before stepping over and pulling down the collar of his shirt.

"How did you get that bruise?" she asked, attracting uncle Vernon and Dudley's attention. "Did anyone beat you?"

"No, no one did that. Just my homework. Come with me, I'll show you," he said, and led the Dursleys inside and to the hall, where the Roselip was still standing.

He pulled off the box to reveal the flower, and laughed at the startled faces of his family. "This is my Herbology homework. We are to take care of it over the holiday," he said.

"It's a plant, right?" aunt Petunia wondered, studying it closely. "It looks kind of like a moving orchid."

"It's called a Roselip because of the shape of its flower. The flowers are often used in potions because they have pain-relieving abilities. And they also tend to suck on to human skin, especially to someone they feel affection for or treat them well. Those kisses, as we call them, are what cause the hickeys," he explained as the plant suddenly sucked on to the back of his hand. "Like this." Realizing the concerned looks on their faces, he continued: "It doesn't hurt at all. They're completely harmless unless you've got haemophilia."

Aunt Petunia carefully stretched out a hand and touched its petals. "They're so soft. It's a pretty flower, Harry, except for the fact that it makes hickeys."

"Yeah," he agreed.

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry spent the days during vacation playing games with Dudley, and sometimes Dudley's friends too between his homework. Even though he had already watered his Roselip two times daily, it still drooped somewhat, so he realized this one might want more water. Marcus had written to him and said that _his_ Roselip would droop if it stood more than three and a half hour in the sun, and Harry was surprised by the big differences in the plants' preferences. His own flower wanted a lot of sun, but that was probably the reason why it needed a lot of water as well.

As soon as Harry had watered the plant it straightened up. Aunt Petunia, who loved flowers, was fascinated by it, and constantly gave him advices on how to treat it.

"You can spray it to make sure it gets enough humidity. You said it was used to a lot of rain, right?" she said and handed him a spray bottle of water.

Harry had taken that advice, and the Roselip was already growing a third stem, and its flowers were far bigger.

That Christmas was the happiest Harry had ever had, even counting the one at Hogwarts in his first year. Aunt Petunia had served an amazing Christmas dinner, and they took him to a Christmas concert in the Opera house. He had loved that so much, and had been impressed of how talented some people were to play or sing, neither of which he could do. They also had visit from the neighbours, whom Harry hadn't had time to meet before he left for school. Mr. and Mrs. Kelly knocked on the door in the middle of the afternoon, and Dudley had opened for them.

As soon as Harry heard their voices he hurried hide his flower and put away his Potions textbook.

"Hello, Dudley! How are you?" asked a cheery female voice.

"I'm fine, thank you. Come in," said Dudley.

Uncle Vernon and aunt Petunia welcomed them as soon as they entered the living room, and Mrs. Kelly's gaze then fell on Harry.

"This must be Harry. Hello, dear! Your aunt has told me a lot about you, all nice of course," chirped Mrs. Kelly lightly and hugged him rather than shaking his hand. "How come we haven't seen you before?"

"I'm studying at a boarding school, so I'm gone most of the year," Harry explained.

"Really? Where?"

"Victoria," Harry replied.

The Kellys were cheerful people, always smiling and laughing, and Mr. Kelly had an impeccable sense of humour, Harry thought. They stayed for dinner and further into the evening when aunt Petunia served her tasteful Christmas cookies.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I'm sorry this chapter isn't much, but the next one will be… different._


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry climbed down the stairs from the fourth year boys' dormitory dressed in his red Quidditch uniform and with his Sunfire in his hand. It was time for the last Quidditch match before Christmas, and a win in this match would ensure Lionpaw the cup for the third year in row.

"Mia said the whole stadium was going to be stuffed," their beater Michael said as Harry arrived in the common room where the team was waiting for him.

"But she's always exaggerating," Sarah, one of the chasers, said.

"Not this time, I think," keeper and Captain Jerry said. "Lionpaw and Drizzledrop are tied to the lead; the winner of this match will win the cup. Did you hear that, Potter?" He turned at looked at Harry.

"Yes. I'll do my best."

"We have faith in you, Harry. After all, we haven't lost one single match after you joined the team," Sarah said.

"Yeah, let's go," Harry muttered and brushed past them towards Leo.

The team hurried after him down to the pitch and into the wardrobes. The cheers and chanting from the audience was clearly audible while Jerry did his pep-talk. Harry only listened partly. His only task was to catch the snitch, and he didn't need to plan much in order to do that.

He startled as Jerry said his name. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed automatically, one moment forgetting that it was only his captain.

"You try to shake off Christensen. Not that I doubt you could do it otherwise, but just to be sure," Jerry said. "Okay, then. Let's play!"

Jerry and Harry took the lead with beaters Michael and Charlie behind, and then the trio of chasers; Evan, Andy and Sarah lastly. Harry and Jerry followed each other to the centre of the pitch before Harry turned straight upwards to go higher, and Jerry angled towards the goal posts. The chasers lined up, facing their Drizzledrop counterparts while Michael and Charlie moved between the chasers and Harry.

Then the snitch was released, and Harry followed it with his gaze as it zoomed away and disappeared. The bludgers shot out of the trunk which contained them, and the next moment the Quaffle was thrown up, starting the match. Harry quickly threw a glance at the Drizzledrop seeker Christensen. They had met several times during the last three years, but Christensen had always lost, though sometimes only with less than an inch.

Harry started circling the pitch above the other players, and started looking for the snitch. He couldn't help but notice the full stands, and he knew his aunt, uncle and cousin was there somewhere. By the Lionpaw section sat a lion and roared. Harry knew it was just an image, not a real lion since he had watched Dylan doing it the day before. It was his speciality, and he was the one who always did the artificial lion in different occasions, like during the Sorting Ceremony at the beginning of each year, scaring the hell out of the first years.

Drizzledrop's floating dolphin didn't have quite the same impression. It gracefully moved in a swimming motion close to the Drizzledrop stands, and was easily overlooked compared to the prancing lion.

"MacDonald to Miller to Johnston, back to Miller, Miller scores! Ten zero to Drizzledrop!" called the speaker, as Harry shot off along the edge of the pitch. "Potter speeds up; has he seen the snitch already?"

Harry smirked and glanced backwards at Christiansen, who was tailing him. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of something black hurling towards him in the edge of his eye, and barely managed to move away from the bludger by rolling sideways so he hung below the broom for a short moment with his legs and hands being the only thing keeping him from falling. With practiced movements he managed to get on top of the broom again, all this while still going at full speed.

Seeing Christensen close in, Harry glanced forwards to make sure the snitch wasn't nearby before he suddenly angled downwards and back the same direction, only flying upside down for a moment.

Christensen looked after him, confused, and quickly turned around to catch up with him again, though Harry already had many feet in advance.

"Myers passes to Walker, who barely avoids an ugly tackle from MacDonald, throws to Myers, who aims... and scores!" One hundred to thirty, in favour Drizzledrop, that is! Lionpaw seems to have a really bad day today, but the game is not over until the snitch is caught! You never say never about Harry Potter; he has not lost the snitch once since he started playing Quidditch! And just – woah! Now he's off again, Christensen trying desperately to catch up with him, but Potter is one hell of a flyer!"

People started to gasp and cry as Harry closed in on the ground. They knew very well what he could do, but they were still nervous. Christensen also knew, but he was not about letting Harry get the snitch only because Christensen hadn't spotted it. That led to Christensen crashing into the ground when Harry pulled out so the Drizzledrop audience shouted in worry and disappointment. Harry dodged a bludger and looked down to see the other seeker lying still on the ground. Apparently he was knocked out. That had happened in other matches as well, so he didn't worry much.

Minutes passed, and Harry still hadn't seen the snitch. Christensen eventually got to his feet, though appearing dazed and unsteady, but still he got on his broom and took off. Harry took advantage of that and immediately zoomed off, pretending to be chasing the snitch across, upwards, around and along for some time as Christensen followed him before he repeated the horrifying dive, sending Christensen in the ground one more time because he was still to dazed to pull out in time.

Time endured long before Harry tried the same again, but when he did, Christensen pulled out of the dive before Harry, and thus managed to avoid one more crash.

"The beaters seem really interested in Potter, I'd say," called the speaker as Harry again was forced to angle left to avoid a bludger. In return Charlie appeared and sent the bludger at one of the Drizzledrop Chasers, who dodged it and continued towards the Lionpaw goalposts. Jerry got a finger on the ball, but not enough to stop it.

"Drizzledrop: Two hundred and sixty, Lionpaw: One hundred and twenty and Potter's off again! There's no end of that boy!"

This time Harry had for real spotted the golden ball, and the vertical dive tried to force him off his broom. He refused to let go, and clutched tight to the wooden stick while his eyes were locked at the snitch. Just as he was about to catch it, it changed direction. Startled, Harry forced the broom out of the dive and continued chasing it three feet above the ground. Harry didn't even bother to take a look over his shoulder because he knew Christensen was there, and slowly catching in.

Not fast enough, though, and Harry caught the snitch right in front of the stands, and turned sharply left to avoid crashing.

"Potter's got the snitch! Potter ensures the victory for Lionpaw for third match in a row! Three hundred and forty to three hundred and twenty!" the speaker shouted.

"Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry!" The Lionpaw spectators were chanting as Harry held the fluttering snitch above his head.

Then he was almost knocked off his broom by Jerry, who hugged him happily.

"You did it, Harry! You got us the cup even though the rest of us played rubbish! I love you!"

Harry just laughed, not taking him seriously. As they got down on the ground he walked over to a bruised and battered Christensen.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"What do you think after having crashed several times in high speed?" Christensen replied dryly as he got a handkerchief to dry his bleeding nose.

"Yeah, sorry."

Christensen shrugged. "You didn't do anything illegal. It's a part of the game," he said and walked off with his teammates.

Harry startled as Charlie and Michael lifted him onto their shoulders and walked around with him.

"Potter's our hero!" they shouted, but the audience drowning them.

Then Professor Daniels came running over the sand towards them with a wizard with greyish hair and midnight blue robes behind him. The professor smiled widely and appeared excited, though that was a common sight.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter, this is Adam Weber; manager for the Australian Quidditch Team; I'm sure you've heard of him," said Professor Daniels, looking up at Harry.

"Yes, I have. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Weber," Harry said, grabbing Mr. Weber's outstretched hand.

"And it's a great pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Potter. I've heard a lot about your talent, and today I decided to come and watch. I'm very impressed by your flying skills and talent, young man."

"Thank you, sir. It means a lot to hear it from you, sir," Harry said as Charlie and Michael put him down and joined the rest of the team, who were listening to the conversation.

"So since our Seeker Katelyn Harper quit after last season, we had to find another seeker, and I would like to offer you that place on the national team."

Harry gaped at him, and from behind he heard gasps and surprised exclamations from his teammates. "You can't be serious, can you, sir?"

Mr. Weber smiled. "I am, Mr. Potter."

"Um..." Harry didn't know what to say for a while until a thought hit him. "I can't, sir. Even if I want to, I can't, because I'm not an Australian citizen, and I'm not sure if I can become one. Besides, I'm only fourteen and still in school."

"I was afraid you would say so. But an Australian citizenship only requires four years," said Mr. Weber smugly.

"Then I'd still have to wait more two years, sir, seeing as I only moved here in August two years ago."

"You know, Mr. Potter, I'm quite influential in the Ministry of Magic because of my position as a manager, and I'm sure I could pull some strings," Mr. Weber told him, grinning uncannily wide now.

Hesitating, Harry chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know, sir... Can I think about it?"

Mr. Weber smiled widely. "Of course. I'll be staying here for a few days, but I would like your answer as soon as possible, seeing as we have to start training for the new season."

"If I said yes, sir," Harry began, "how could I get time to practice while still on school? I mean; there's a lot of work here."

"Ah, yes. I'm glad to see you're worrying about school, Mr. Potter. However, I'm sure you will have some free time in the afternoons. Not every day, of course, but three or four days a week, and then you will have matches some weekends," Mr. Weber explained.

"But that would force me to quit playing here at school, sir. I'm not so sure if I want that because I care a lot about my team," Harry clutched his broomstick so his knuckles turned white.

Mr. Weber nodded in understanding. "You don't have to quit since you'd be practicing a lot anyway, and you have only three matches to play here, am I right? One against each house? I'm sure you could manage that?"

Harry felt confused, amazed and somewhat scared at the same time. Not knowing what to answer he politely told Mr. Weber he'd think about it and followed his teammates to the locker rooms. Still deep in thoughts he didn't notice that the other boys were watching him until Evan asked: "What are you going to tell him, Harry?"

Harry's head snapped up, and he looked at him with perplexity. "Huh?"

"What are you going to tell Mr. Weber? Are you planning on taking the spot?" Evan repeated.

Allowing the water to trickle down his skin Harry shrugged. "I'm not sure. Even if I say yes I'm not guaranteed a citizenship, no matter what Mr. Weber says."

Jerry frowned at this. "Harry, you know that Mr. Weber is big in Australia! Even after only two years here you know! I know you do! Everybody knows who he is, he is highly respected, looked up to, worshipped, and one of those outsiders with most influence on the Ministry because of his position and because his team is as popular and strong as it is," he almost shouted, making echo in the room.

"But still!" Harry argued.

"You know, every Quidditch player's big dream is to get on the national team. You get the opportunity in the age of fourteen! How insane is that?" Jerry continued.

Huffing, Harry glared at him. "Make up your mind, Jerry."

"I already have! If I were in your shoes I'd have no doubt."

"Well, you are graduating now anyway, and besides; you have an Australian citizenship. I have neither."

When Harry met his dorm mates at dinner they appeared excited. Harry was just annoyed after his little fight with Jerry and didn't ask. Neither did he have to.

"Did you know the manager of the national team is here?" Julian asked and pointed at Mr. Weber who sat beside professor Reaburn by the head table.

"Yeah, I did. He was at the match," Harry replied and helped himself with food.

"Did you know why he's here?" wondered Marcus.

Harry merely shrugged, not wanting to tell them with so many people around.

"Good match, Harry," smiled Tiarni and her friend Anna as they sat down. Anna stroked a finger along his collar as she did.

Harry merely ignored her touch; he was used to several of the girls in Lionpaw doing things like that to most of the boys, just for the fun of it, even though he got the majority. Tiarni had explained it to be because he was their precious seeker and "just because you are our Harry", whatever that meant.

"Thanks," he answered before turning back to his meal.

"You know, I'm sure you could handle those dragons in that Treswizard tournament, Harry," said Dylan, "You could just outfly it. Even a dragon could not stand a chance again you, even if it was an Australian Red."

"Don't be silly, Dylan," Harry argued. "Not even Victor Krum could outfly an Australian Red. Besides; it's _Triwizard_."

"Yeah, whatever." Dylan shrugged as he gathered the last pieces of his lasagne on his fork. "You join me working on that Patronus Charm afterwards? You're the only one who can do it properly."

"Hey!" Jonathan exclaimed. "I can do it too!"

"Not as good."

Jonathan gave in. "True."

"Yeah, I'll come with you. I have to practice non-verbal spells anyway," Harry replied. "If we are going to do that parrot to tiger transfiguration non-verbally, I'm sure I'll fail!"

"You'll never fail. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You got five Os on your S.W.I. , and Es on the rest!" Dylan complained.

"But this is not S.W.I.F.T level! It's B. ," Harry argued and pushed the last piece of fish into his mouth. "Come on," he grunted and got up from the bench.

Using one of the empty classrooms Dylan and Harry practiced their magic, and was soon joined by Marcus and Julian. Jonathan said he was going to read up on Potions instead.

To do non-verbal spells was difficult, and while Marcus did it with ease Harry had to practice hard in order to do so. After about hundred attempts he managed a pretty good parrot to tiger transfiguration. Dylan's wildebeest patronus also appeared for the first time, though only for a short while as he lost concentration pretty quickly.

_ANC ANC ANC_

When they returned to the common room early in the evening Harry collapsed on the couch and watched Linda and Leanne racing their pen cases across the floor. The always energetic Julian joined them while Marcus promptly fell asleep in a chair and Dylan celebrating the Quidditch victory with a few of the sixth years. Harry almost fell asleep too before Madeleine, one of the girls in fifth year, appeared beside the couch and started massaging his shoulders.

"You must be tired from the match. I can understand that after all those dives you did. I'll loosen you up a bit," she said kindly.

"Mmm..." Harry murmured sleepily and pulled a pillow under his chin.

"How is it that you always get the girls' attention, Harry?" wondered Andy as he glanced up from a book he was reading.

"Dunno," Harry murmured. "Don't care."

"Always the attention-seeker," Andy replied ironically. It was clear that he was only joking, even though Harry sent him a "Shut up. The only thing I'm seeking is the snitch."

That earned a laugh from the chaser who then turned back to his book. Harry soon fell asleep under Madeleine's hands.

_He was standing in the same room as he had when he had seen that muggle gardener being killed. This time, however, the young sandy-haired man was gone, and only Wormtail was left, crouching in fear in front of the chair, which had its back turned to Harry._

"_What do you mean with not there?" a cold, hoarse voice screamed from the chair in utter anger. "Hasn't it been thirteen years now, Wormtail? Isn't the boy at the right age?"_

_Wormtail crouched even lower, trembling. "Y-yes, my lord," he stuttered._

"_Then why isn't he?" the voice screamed. "Why isn't he at the school? You know very well I need him, and only him!"_

"_Y-yes, my lord," Wormtail said again, "No one knows where he is, my lord, no one has seen him in three years. N-not even D-Dumbledore knows anything."_

"_Then search for him! You and Barty have got four months, Wormtail, and if you can't find him, you would wish Black had killed you that night you betrayed the Potters. You hear me?"_

"_Y-yes, your Lordship," Wormtail replied, trembling even more now, looking as if he was expecting to be hit._

"_Crucio!"_

_Wormtail howled and then the scene turned black._

Harry felt himself being shaken awake. Opening his eyes he looked up at half the Lionpaw house members who stared back worriedly.

"Harry, are you alright?" Julian asked from Harry's right.

Harry realized he was panting, and his heart was racing wildly as if he had chased the Ghost of Starling around the castle.

"Yes. Bad dream," he said hurriedly.

"We could see that," Dylan said. "What was it about? It had to be really bad since you were writhing and screaming as if in pain."

Harry hesitated and sat up, Tiarni immediately sitting down beside him and stroking his arm comfortingly. "It was about Voldemort. He was searching for me. He wanted to find me. I don't know why, but he gave his servants four months."

A few moments of silence followed.

"Well, it was just a dream, right?"

"Yeah..." Harry muttered even though he had an uncanny feeling of reality about the dream.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I hope you're not too mad at me for skipping third year._


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

"They still haven't caught him yet? It's been over a year; the British aurors have to be really bad then," Dylan said as he stared at the front page of the Daily Telegraph the next day.

A big picture of a darkly handsome man with his face twisted in a scream and long, black, lustrous hair.

BRITISH "MASS MURDERER" STILL ON THE LOOSE.

Marcus snorted at his friend's statement. "You surprised? The man didn't even get a trial."

"How do you know?" Harry asked, staring at the picture. If felt oddly familiar.

"We do have correspondents in Britain, you know, Harry. How else would you think we knew of what was going on over there? Obviously, while the Brits were furious at the murders they got blind and just threw him into Azakan or whatever it was," Marcus said.

"Azkaban," Harry corrected.

Even though being a Sunday, most students used their time studying for the exams. Harry knew the theory, but he was trying to perform the hardest spells non-verbally, and then going through all sorts of plants, potions and magical creatures they had learned the last year.

By dinner Mr. Weber approached the Lionpaw table and walked beside it until he stopped beside Harry, much to the surprise of most of the people in the Great Hall.

"Have you decided, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

Harry thought through his decision for the tenth time that day before he nodded slowly. "I've decided to accept, sir, but of course only if you get an agreement from the Ministry about the citizenship," he said lowly, trying to avoid too many eavesdroppers.

"Of course, Mr. Potter. I'll contact you as soon about it," Mr. Weber said, smiling widely before he walked back to the head table.

Harry's attention was forced back to the Lionpaw table by Julian who nudged his arm. Then he quickly realized that almost everyone in the Great Hall was looking at him, and he only wished to hide.

"What was that about?" Julian asked. "What did he mean?"

Harry merely shook his head. "Not now. Not here."

After dinner Harry was pulled along to the fourth year boys' dorms and pushed down on a bed.

"Speak!" demanded Dylan.

"Um... okay... at the match yesterday Mr. Weber offered me a place on the team – " he was interrupted by gasps and surprised exclamations. "- and I promised him I'd think about it. Today I accepted, but only if he could fix me an early citizenship. I don't understand how he could possibly do that anyway. I thought things like that were far stricter."

"This is Mr. Weber we are talking about, Harry," Marcus said, "the Ministry allows him to do almost whatever he wants to."

"Well, that's crazy. They shouldn't."

"They do. Listen, Mr. Weber has trained the national team for years. Before he came into the picture Australia was one of the least successful in the world, and often they didn't even win a single match in a season. When Mr. Weber took over the lead for the team they became much better. He trained them in new ways, he had this special eye for young talents, people were ecstatic the first time they won a match. It was just sheer bad luck that they didn't manage the World Cup Finals this summer. Mr. Weber is a national hero because he raised our team in the sport we all love so much," Marcus explained.

Silence followed and Harry stared into his lap, thoughtful. "But I still don't understand why he wanted me on the team. I'm not even fifteen, and I'm not an Australian. Why didn't he pick someone else? I'm sure there are many who are better seekers than me."

"If you had seen yourself at that match you wouldn't have said that. A lot of those moves you did, and the way you fly is impressive. Didn't you read today's Telegraph?" asked Julian and handed him a copy of the Jungle Telegraph.

On the front page was a picture of a broken window in Wattle Avenue: _Bullies broke windows just for fun._

Harry looked at his friends. "What does this have to do with me?" he asked.

"Look at page four. There's an article about you there."

Harry felt his stomach fill with dread. He had bad experiences with articles about him, and he really didn't fancy another. With a sigh he opened the newspaper and found a picture of himself flying during a Quidditch match.

_- HARRY POTTER LOOKS LIKE HE IS FLYING WITHOUT A BROOM_

_By Robert O'Brien_

_Our journalist was sent to Waratah Academy of Magic to watch the Quidditch game between Lionpaw and Whistlewind house where Mr. Harry Potter would be playing as a seeker for Lionpaw house. Yes, that's right, people, Harry Potter is at Waratah, and has been since August two years ago._

_The Lionpaws played surprisingly bad considering that their chasers have a tradition of being of the best at Waratah. After two hours Whistlewind was leading with one hundred and thirty points. However, when the Lionpaw chasers and keeper failed, the seeker, Potter, saved the day. During the match he did some amazing Wronski Feints, which are mostly known to be Bulgarian seeker Viktor Krum's speciality, but Potter seemed to have adopted them and perfected them, because Whistlewind seeker Anthony Christensen crashed several times, and was out for minutes after each crash. When Potter finally caught the snitch Christensen was heavily dazed, confused and bruised, and he probably had a couple of broken ribs as well._

_The Jungle Telegraph spoke with Mr. Christensen himself and asked what he thought about Mr. Potter as a seeker._

_- Yes, well, Potter is one hell of a seeker; he demonstrated it today. He has a great talent for this; it looks like he is flying without a broom, because he's so agile and fast in the air, and you saw those death tricks he did; he is not easily scared. So, yes, he's a very good seeker. I believe he could go professional if he wanted to._

_Mr. Potter's friend Julian Pennington agrees with Christensen, but adds that Potter hates attention out of the ordinary. The only reason he plays Quidditch is because he loves to do so._

_- He always says he wants nothing more than to be normal. That's the reason he left Britain in the first place, you know. He was treated for being the one people thought he was, not the one he was._

Harry looked at his friends with a frown. "Well, that's an exaggeration," he muttered.

"It's not, Harry," Marcus argued. "You're everything Christensen said, and more. That's why Mr. Weber asked you to join the team even if you're just fourteen."

_ANC ANC ANC_

Just a couple of weeks later the exams were going strong. Harry was incredibly nervous when he entered the Transfiguration classroom for him practical exam. His hands were sweaty to the degree he felt like his wand was going to slip out of his grip, and his head was just filled with mess. He wasn't sure if he could do a simple parchment to owl transfiguration now, even though he had done it so many times before, even non-verbally.

Professor Magnolia and Mr. Kennedy watched him as he approached them, and while Mr. Kennedy held a stern stone face, professor Magnolia smiled comfortingly at him.

Harry was very relieved afterwards. The task was, as he had feared, the parrot to tiger transfiguration non-verbally, but he had made it, even without that usual feathered tail his last attempts had caused. So when he met Julian outside waiting for him, he couldn't hold back a grin.

"I assume it went well?" Julian asked, smiling.

"Yes, it didn't even have the feathered tail!" Harry exclaimed happily.

"Really? That's great! How did the conjuration part go, then?"

"Good, I think. But you know I'm not very good at table settings. I managed the conjuration of tables, chairs, plates, glasses, cutlery and decoration, but which glass to be where and what knife to lie closest to the plate... I think I messed up that part," Harry said honestly.

"Yes, but the important thing was the conjuration. Now, only the Defence Against the Dark Arts exam left tomorrow," Julian's smile disappeared quickly.

"That won't be any trouble," Harry said simply.

"Not for you! You can do that silly patronus non-verbally. I can't! You've always done defence-spells better than anyone, even without a single word," Julian exclaimed.

"Well, you do non-verbal transfiguration very well, and I don't. I guess you remember the flying pig?" Harry challenged.

"Of course, how could I forget that?" Julian laughed. "Just wait till next year, Harry. According to Annie we are going to work like hell on wandless magic."

Harry stared at him, shocked. "Already? I thought we would have a little more time to work on this non-verbal spells."

Julian huffed and started walking towards the Great Hall where dinner would be served in less than fifteen minutes. "By now you should know that this isn't Hogwarts. We don't use their methods. Anyway, since you passed your S.W.I. you can practice most of the spells at home."

"Yeah, luckily. Not even Fred and George are allowed to do that yet. They have to wait for their seventeenth birthday," Harry grinned and moved aside for a group of first years who were chatting among themselves and not paying attention to where they went.

"Speaking about Fred and George; have you told them where you are yet?" asked Julian.

"No, but I guess if the Daily Prophet has gotten a word about me being here, they would know anyway. After all magical Australia knows, and there has to be someone who would tell people in Britain," Harry said as they entered the Great Hall.

It was still pretty empty, but students were steadily streaming inside and sitting down by the tables to wait for dinner to be served. The head table was also empty, with all the teachers being busy with their students' exams.

"Did you tell your family about Mr. Weber?" wondered Julian and sat down on the bench.

"Yes. They were surprised, but very happy. Concerning the citizenship they didn't mind it. Aunt Petunia said that the most important thing was that I was happy, and if playing Quidditch made me happy, she said 'go for it'," Harry smiled.

Just a couple of minutes later Mr. Weber entered the Great Hall and hurried across the room with a scroll of parchment in his hand and his usual big smile plastered upon his lips.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter," he called as he approached Harry. "I've got the form for you," he added slightly breathlessly as if he had been running, and he probably had. "So if you want to do this, you just fill out this and send it to this address," he handed Harry a small piece of parchment with a few lines of text on: _Australian Ministry of Magic; Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Administrative Registration Department, Dawes Point, Sydney._

Harry nodded to Mr. Weber. "Thank you, sir."

After having repeated some of the hardest elements of this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Harry spent the rest of the evening filling out the application form, which was a great deal of work, he thought. Every now and then Dylan or Julian would come over to ask him something about defence, but other than that he was left alone in a corner of the common room. When he was done he placed the letter on his night table and joined the pillow fight Marcus, Jonathan and Dylan had started.

The next morning Harry had a school owl to take the letter to the Ministry as Hedwig was in Britain with a letter for Fred and George. He then hurried to his defence exam.

Two weeks later school ended, and everyone packed to return home. The day the carriage was to leave Waratah Harry got a reply from the Ministry.

"They worked fast," he commented.

"Yeah. Minister Trifle always says time is money," Marcus explained. "Open it."

Harry put down his fork and opened the envelope before pulling out the letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am hereby pleased to inform you that your citizenship application has been accepted, and that you are now a citizen of magical Australia..._

"They did! I am!" Harry exclaimed, surprised.

"What?" Jonathan wondered from across the table; he hadn't been paying them any attention and appeared confused, though curious.

"Well, then there is more Australian than just your accent about you," Marcus teased and Harry swatted his arm annoyed.

"You just shut up," he muttered. "I'm going to write to Mr. Weber and tell him I got through."

"I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows," Marcus said.

"Really?" Frowning, Harry followed Marcus' finger which was aimed towards a sooty owl which approached Harry. It landed beside him and allowed him to take the letter before drinking some of his mango juice and leaving again.

Harry unfolded the letter and read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I'm glad to hear that your application was accepted. With that being said I will arrange for you to come to our practice January 3__rd__ if you are still interested. I will bring a contract for you to sign, and we will have a few hours of practice. We do wish to keep our new seeker a secret until season start, so please don't tell anyone but your closest._

_Sincerely,_

_John Weber._

When he looked up he found his friends watching him curiously. "What did it say?" Dylan asked.

Harry hesitated and glanced around at the other students nearby before he told them.

"Write about the practice, Harry," Julian urged as he rose. "Come on, we should go."

The five boys moved out of the Great Hall and to their dormitory to get their belongings.

Not bothering to carry it down all the stairs Harry merely levitated his trunk, broom and Hedwig's cage down to the first floor where the Ghost of Starling was running wildly around like normal. Most students ignored him and went outside.

It was a warm and sunny day, not really the ideal day of travelling. The carriage stood on the grass with the twenty winged horses, harnessed and ready for departure. Students were entering the carriage, and Harry and his friends followed the stream finding an empty compartment somewhere in the front.

"So, Harry, are you looking forward to practice?" Dylan asked lowly as he closed the door behind them.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I? I mean; it's Quidditch, and not under Jerry's direction – not that he's not good, but I want more challenge. Christensen was not much of a challenge," Harry said with a smile.

"We could definitely see that. I almost felt sorry for him sometimes. But only almost," Jonathan said.

"You will tell us about the matches, right? So we can come and see?" asked Dylan.

"Sure."

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: For all you who think he shouldn't join the Quidditch team; I don't want him to just sit there with nothing happening. Harry loves Quidditch, and it would also be unrealistic if nothing happened. That would be a boring story, don't you think?_


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

The Dursleys met him at the airport, and while uncle Vernon clapped his back, aunt Petunia hugged him and Dudley managed with a "Hi, Harry."

"How you have grown this year!" aunt Petunia exclaimed while holding him at an arm's length to look at him.

Harry smiled. True; he had grown quite a bit, not only in height, but filled out a bit in width as well. He was no longer the small, scrawny boy everyone knew him to be. He was slender, yes, but not skinny.

"They're in the right age, Pet," smiled uncle Vernon and glanced at Dudley as well.

Most of Dudley's fat was gone, and he was looking better than in years. Harry made sure to compliment that. He had also grown a whole lot, being taller than Harry, and close to the same height as his father.

"Yes, they're growing so fast," aunt Petunia sighed and climbed into the car.

"Harry, do you want to come and watch my boxing match tomorrow?" Dudley asked, fastening his seatbelt.

"Sure. Who are you playing?" Harry wondered. "Not that I know much about boxing, though."

"Troy Fulton, regional champion."

"Really? You think you could beat him?" Harry pulled off his vest because of the temperature and fastened his seatbelt as uncle Vernon drove the car out of the parking lot.

"Maybe. He's very good – after all he is regional champion, but..."

"Dudley has his knockout punches," uncle Vernon stated proudly. "He knocked out Yong Li some weeks ago."

"Wow. I also kind of knocked out my opponent in the last match," Harry admitted.

"Really? I didn't think a seeker needed to go physical?" Dudley asked curiously.

"No, I didn't. I did this dive, pretending to have seen the snitch close to the ground and pulled out just before I crashed. Christensen, the Whistlewind seeker was following closely, and since he was not paying enough attention to what was in front of him he crashed several times because he didn't pull out of the dive. He was unconscious for several minutes each time," Harry said with a small smile.

"Why don't you leave it to the beaters to knock out the opposing team?" Dudley wondered. He was very interested in the game even though he couldn't play it himself.

"Because they often miss. How easy is it to hit a person flying faster than one hundred miles per hour with a ball and a bat, even though the ball is enchanted? The Wronski Feint has a bigger chance of a success – at least according to my experience," Harry explained.

"Have you been hit by a bludger, Harry?" aunt Petunia wondered with a slightly worried expression.

"Yeah, several times. The beaters love to aim at me. Michael and Charlie use me to practice on," he grinned. "Speaking about Quidditch, I got a letter from Mr. Weber this morning – you know, the manager of the national team, and he's going to pick me up for practice January 3rd."

"So they accepted your citizenship application, then?" uncle Vernon asked.

"Yep."

"I thought you weren't allowed to use magic outside school?" uncle Vernon said when Harry sent levitated his trunk and broom upstairs with a wave of his wand.

"We are allowed to do most things after passing our S.W.I. because we learn so much during the first three years, not only spells, but also use of magic generally, like ethics and rules," Harry explained, "so I was planning to practice a lot this summer if it's okay?"

"Yes, as long as we know what you're doing and you don't harm anyone," uncle Vernon told him.

"Of course, uncle Vernon."

So when dinner came Harry helped aunt Petunia cooking, using more of his wand than his own hands, and his aunt was watching the spoon stirring in the sauce pot on its own accord.

"That's kind of scary to watch, Harry," she commented, and Harry laughed.

"Probably at first, but I hope you get used to it."

_ANC ANC ANC_

During the days of Christmas the Dursleys steadily got used to Harry waving his wand around the house, fixing broken things, cooking, cleaning and so on, but not when they had guests, of course. Letters from Scotland told Harry about the life at Hogwarts – at least through the eyes of a couple of jokers and a shy boy. Fred and George complained about a Yule ball, whereas Neville seemed delighted about it. Also after the death eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup Dumbledore started searching for Harry again, fearing his safety according to Neville. Fred and George rather believed Dumbledore just wanted Harry to kill Voldemort, but the reason, they didn't know.

New Year's Eve Harry received a letter from Mr. Weber, telling him he would arrive to fetch him at ten thirty January 3rd. Therefore, at the third of January Harry was ready with his broom, wondering how Mr. Weber would arrive. The Dursleys were waiting with him, curious about this Mr. Weber Harry had told them about.

At exactly 10:30 three knocks on the door signalized his arrival, and Harry moved to the entrance hall to open the door. Mr. Weber strode into the house with a wide grin on his face.

"Hello! Are you ready for practice, Harry?"

"Sure," Harry replied as the Dursleys appeared in the entrance hall. "Um... Mr. Weber, this is my family; uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia and Dudley."

"Ah! Nice to meet you!" Mr. Weber said, stretching out a hand to greet them all. "You should know that Harry is indeed a talented player, so you should be proud of him."

"Oh, we are," said aunt Petunia, smiling at Harry.

"Now, off we go. We'll have a lot to do today," Mr. Weber said. "We're going to apparate, so grad my arm, please."

Harry grabbed his Sunfire, bid the Dursleys goodbye and grabbed his arm just before the world started spinning and pressing against him. When the spinning finally stopped he found himself standing in front a two-story building stretching far out to either side. Doors were placed on several places along the side of the building, but the main door was in front of Harry. Above it was a big sign in green with big golden letters saying _Cockatoo Island Stadium_. Green plants and trees were growing on the hillsides surrounding the stadium, and distantly Harry could hear the waves of the sea breaking against rocks and land.

"Welcome to Cockatoo Island. It's placed about two hundred miles off the east coast of Australia, well hidden from sight of muggles. This is where the Austalian national team practices and where we have our home matches," Mr. Weber said and pushed open the door.

Harry followed him inside a big entrance hall with glass doors on the left and right ends of the room as well as stairs going both up and down beside.

"You have the tribunes out the doors and down the stairs, and the judges' area on the top," Mr. Weber explained. "We can take a quick look at the pitch."

He crossed the room and opened the door to the pitch. They entered on one of the topmost levels, and far below them was the pitch, basically a huge hole in the ground, covered with sand. The whole stadium had a bluish hue, and along the sides and rising more than a hundred feet into the air were the tribunes enchanted to look like a massive, rich coral reef. Each of the spectator boxes were placed in anemones or colourful reef clams or similar things, and everything was moving with the smoothness of water. There were no towers like the pitch at Hogwarts; everything was like attached to a wall, though there were areas between each level and a gap at ground level which Harry thought were aquariums, or it could only have been enchanted to look like fish swimming around inside.

"So hopefully you will be playing here in a while," Mr. Weber smiled. "Now we are going to the locker rooms, and they are down at the bottom, below the pitch, so we are taking the elevator."

He walked inside and into one of the many elevators lined up in the middle of the foyer and tapped the button with a B with his wand. "The locker room area is restricted so we don't get the supporters down there. Wouldn't do well, would it?" Mr. Weber said and chuckled.

"No, sir," Harry replied as the elevator started to drop. It tickled in his stomach on the way down, and it took a good while until they stopped and the door opened to reveal a crosspoint of three corridors; one to the left, one to the right and one straight ahead. The two at the sides bent slightly to follow the oval structure of the stadium. The walls were painted white, and were boringly plain except for a few team pictures scattered about.

Mr. Weber led him down the corridor straight ahead of them until Harry guessed they were below the centre of the Quidditch pitch above them, and then he stopped in front of a door.

"This is our locker room, both at training and in matches. The opposing team's is there," he pointed at the door straight across the corridor. "Now, hopefully the teams will be here, so let's go in and meet them." Mr. Weber opened the door and entered.

Harry followed him, feeling slightly nervous. What if they didn't like him? What if they thought he played badly?

Just like Mr. Weber had said, about fourteen or fifteen people were there, sitting on benches in the circular room talking and laughing together. In the farthest end of the room were two other doors, one marked with _Ladies_, and the other with _Men_. Harry agreed to that it wouldn't work well with both sexes having to share dressing area and showers.

"Hi, guys," Mr. Weber said. "Here's our new seeker."

Immediately Harry was surrounded by players who wanted to greet him, and realized he wouldn't have a chance to remember all of them. He did an attempt though, and some of them he knew already, after over two years with Quidditch enthusiastic dorm mates.

"Why don't you go and change? Harry, your practice robes are in the men's room, okay? The lockers have extendable charms on them, so you can put as much as you want to in them."

Harry nodded and followed the other boys, or men, to the men's locker room. It was quite similar to the main room, but there was an opening leading to the showers. The green lockers had names on them written in golden letters, and Harry aimed for the one with H. Potter. It was locked, however, and he had no key. Copying the others he tapped it with his wand, and the door opened. Inside were tree sets of forest green uniforms with a kangaroo on the front and back which Harry recognized as match uniforms. There were also four sets of the dark blue uniform Harry saw the others starting to pull on. Practice uniform, then. He pulled one out and quickly changed before pulling on a pair of the boots placed in there. Grabbing his Sunfire he joined his teammates out to the corridor, and almost back to the elevators before they opened another door marked _Pitch_ and ran up the stairs.

From this angle Harry quickly realized that the pitch was far bigger than the one at Hogwarts, and he could barely wait to try it out. The tribunes towered above him in every direction, and a tent-like roof was halfway pulled over the stadium.

Mr. Weber came trotting lastly, smiling happily. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, we can start by warming up. Four laps around the pitch will do. You're probably all heavy from Christmas food anyway."

Harry broke into a jog, stubbornly trying to keep up with the others. After three laps he had to let go as his lungs were burning and his throat was sore, and settled for a slower pace, resulting in him finishing behind the others. Gasping for air he stopped beside the rest of the team.

"Now, get your brooms, we have to warm up in air too, you know," Mr. Weber said and waved his wand.

An obstacle course in the air appeared, consisting of big rings and sticks. The team quickly left and Harry purposefully took off lastly to learn from the others what they were supposed to do. They flew through the rings which were placed in different angles and levels as well as flying slalom through the row of sticks. Between some of the elements there were open areas where the team increased the speed and reduced it to the next obstacle. The course was done several times until Mr. Weber called them to a stop, approaching on his own broom.

"So, now that we are all warmed up, we are going to start the real deal here. Harry; our seekers use enchanted balls rather than snitches in practice," he said and pulled a golden coloured ball out of his pocket. "Some are charmed to trick you, like doing quick changes in directions, increasing and decreasing speed, basically challenge you in a way an opposing seeker and a snitch would do together in a match, but with a higher difficulty. Others are charmed to hide for you, making it difficult for you to find them."

"Cool," Harry said, and his team mates chuckled.

"So, you take this one." Mr. Weber handed him the ball before starting to direct the other players. The Chasers on the reserve team were to practice with the reserve keeper, and the A-team Chasers would do the A-team keeper, while the Beaters was supposed to aim for moving targets, being conjured images of opposing players.

"And Harry, you're not aware of this, but I'm going to conjure images of Bludgers which will try to hit all of you, but it won't harm you. It will only pass straight through you and make you glow red to signalize that you're hit, but please try to avoid being hit. It's a reason behind it after all," explained Mr. Weber.

"Yes, sir," Harry said before they were told to start.

The ball suddenly flew out of his hand and disappeared in a matter of seconds. Harry chased after it, but when he realized it was out of sight, he started circling the pitch instead. Surprisingly, it didn't take long until he caught a glimpse of gold close to the topmost tribunes and lunged after it. The ball moved just inches away from Harry's hand, forcing him to turn left. The speed caused him to skid a few feet before zooming off again.

He didn't manage to catch the ball because it kept changing speed and directions all the time. Several times it forced him into Vronski Feints that were merely inches from resulting in a crash.

Harry didn't know how much time he had used dodging imaginary bludgers and chasing the golden ball before Mr. Weber gathered them again and explained a tactic for the Chasers to use on their keeper to score. Meanwhile Harry, the reserve seeker Lisa, A-team beaters Ryan and Gabriel, and reserve beaters Erik and Jasper were told to do pull-ups on their brooms.

"Close to the ground, of course," Mr. Weber said.

Harry couldn't do even a third of the number Ryan and Gabriel reached.

"Don't worry, Harry. We are beaters after all. We _have_ to be strong in our arms," Ryan assured him as he pulled himself onto his broom again and hung himself upside down to do head down sit-ups.

By the end of the practice Harry was exhausted, but happy. It had been challenging and varied, though tiresome. He dragged himself down to the locker rooms, undressed and pulled out a towel and soap from his locker before stepping into the showers.

"So what do you think, Harry?" asked Hugo, the A-team keeper.

"Fun, but exhausting." Harry turned on the shower and stepped under the immediately warm water. It felt good against his weary muscles.

The others laughed.

"I felt the same after my first practice too," Hugo said. "Mind you, it's going to be harder on Wednesday; then the A-team has game practice."

Harry glanced at the tall man. He was well into his twenties, and muscles Harry could only imagine. In fact, none of the other team members seemed to be below twenty-five.

Afterwards Mr. Weber handed him a decorative pillow, telling him it was a portkey.

"With it you can travel from your home to here and back, just tap it with your wand and say _Cockatoo nest_."

"_Cockatoo nest?_ Um... okay. Thanks." Some password, Harry thought as he looked at the red pillow.

"Yes, and it is created for your signature, so no one else can use it unless you bring them along. Also, it only goes from your home to here," Mr. Weber explained.

The days of January went on with practice four days a week for two or three hours each time. Though Harry enjoyed it immensely he was slightly worried how he was supposed to manage at school as well.

"Don't worry, Harry. If you want to, we can help," one of the chasers, Annie, told him after a practice in the end of January.

"Thanks," Harry replied as he tied his shoes.

"How are you going to travel to and from Waratah?" Gabriel asked. "I thought the castle had wards to prevent portkeys?"

"Yes, they do. I'm going to use the floo," Harry explained.

"Of course. Silly me. So, tomorrow's last practice before school begins, yeah?" Gabriel glanced at him before placing his beater's bat in his locker.

Harry nodded. "I look forward to see my friends again, though it's going to be a hell with the work."

"At least the S.W.I.F.T.s were heavier. Now you're narrowing down," Gabriel explained

"But still increasing the difficulty. Have you started occlumency in defence yet? I can promise you, _that's_ difficult," Annie added.

"We just started. It's a little confusing," Harry replied.

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry managed to cover up his absence with claiming that he was having meetings with Professor Daniels, who was the only professor except for the headmistress who knew that Harry was at Quidditch practice. His dorm mates knew, of course, but they promised not to tell anyone.

The school work was hard, but not as hard as he had expected. They had started practicing wandless magic, which Harry though was very difficult. While Julian levitated his Charms book five feet, Harry only managed three inches by march, but it was improving, slowly but surely. The clue was to understand how the wand was helping you and try to manipulate the magic inside you to work without a wand. At the moment Harry's magic flew everywhere without him having control, and only a little bit hit the feather, being only enough to levitate it a few inches.

Also the first Quidditch game was set in March. They would be playing England at Cockatoo Island, and Harry had been given as much as fifteen free tickets so he could invite his friends, so the Dursleys were naturally invited as Mr. Weber explained they could be placed under simple spells that allowed them to pass the muggle-repelling charms. Dylan, Julian, Marcus and Jonathan also got some tickets, and then he sent some tickets to Neville, and some to the twins. The Quidditch loving Weasley twins would naturally love to come to the game, still ignorant of Harry's position on the team.

Harry was extremely nervous when he followed his team mates through the tunnel. He felt like he was shaking, and Annie placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Just do like you do on practice, and I'm sure we'll win this thing," she said.

Harry merely nodded as the pitch spread out in front of them. It felt so different now that the stages were all filled, and the roars and cries from the supporters were almost loud enough to turn him deaf.


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

Fred and George had after a lot of trouble managed to get to their seats inside one of the topmost boxes in the tribune. Neville was already waiting for them there along with his grandmother.

"Hi, Neville," they greeted him and plopped down on their seats as their father and younger siblings followed inside the box in which they were seated in.

"Hi. Kind of him to send us these tickets, right?" Neville said.

"Yeah. Where is he, anyway? He wouldn't send us tickets and not come himself," George said.

"Who he?" asked Ron and leaned out over the railings as he studied the side of the blue clam-like box they were sitting in.

"Harry. He wrote in the letter that he got some, but didn't need all of them himself," Fred said nonchalantly.

"Harry? Harry Potter? You got these tickets from _him_?" Ron spat, his face slowly turning red.

"What's so wrong with that?" Ginny asked and kicked his shin. "Allow them to think for themselves. Not everyone is as stupid as you and the rest of Hogwarts."

"Good one, sis!" the twins chorused, receiving a grin from Neville.

At that point a big man with dark hair and walrus moustache followed by a thin, horse-faced blonde woman and a blonde boy who looked like a far thinner, blonde version of his father. They sat down on the other end of the box and started talking to each other without sparing the Weasleys a single glance.

"I bet Parkin's going to get the snitch first," Ron said as he played with his red and white scarf. "Anyone? Fred? George?"

"Yeah, probably. Since he lost against Brauner in the World Cup," Fred said ironically.

"Besides, Australia almost managed to get to the finals," George added.

Ron frowned. "But they have changed seeker after that. Chan quit, remember?"

"Then who's the new one?" asked Ginny.

"How – " George was interrupted by a loud voice, probably amplified by Sonorus.

"Welcome to the first match between Australia and England in group D of the Commonwealth of Nations Cup 1995!" the voice called, and the stadium was filled with noise. Fred and George joined in and waved their flags eagerly.

Most of the tribune had greens and gold because of the Australian supporters, but there were areas of red and white as well, but not nearly as big.

"Now, please welcome the national team of England!" Drums started playing somewhere on the other side of the stadium, and blurs of red and white shot out of the tunnel at ground level. "Frisby! Choudry! Whitey! Flitney! Hawksworth! Vosper, and Parkin!" shouted the speaker as the seven players started flying in a circle.

Fred jumped up and down, waving his scarf while George howled and Ron whistled.

"Go England!" shouted Ron.

"Go Australia!" came a voice from behind, and Fred turned around to see four boys about Ron's age sitting on the row behind them, waving green and gold scarves.

"And now for the national team of Australia!" shouted the speaker as the noise increased on the stadium. Seven gold and green figures appeared from the same tunnel and formed an arrow, much like a flock of birds would fly when migrating.

"Emerson! Robinson! Whalan! Kuyani! Quigley! Love! Aaaaand Potter!"

For a moment George thought he was dreaming until Fred nudged him in the ribs. "Ouch!"

"He's there! He's there!" he exclaimed and pointed at one of the players with messy black hair and glasses on the left tip of the formation. "That's Harry! He's playing!"

"Why is he playing? And for Australia of all things?" Fred asked, still slightly taken by the discovery.

"Harry! Harry! Harry!" shouted the boys behind him, jumping up and down like maniacs.

Ron stared at Harry as he stopped to wait for the balls to be released. First, the Snitch left, then the Bludgers, and lastly, the Quaffle.

"The match has begun, and Kuyani takes the Quaffle, avoids the Bludger there by an inch, passes to Whalan – good attempt of a tackle there by Vosper, but Whalan is not that easy to break, mister!" shouted the speaker.

"Look at Harry!" cried Ginny as the speck representing Harry far up was diving in a horrible speed with the red and white figure of Parkin tailing him.

"Oh hell! Has he seen it already?" Ron commented darkly.

"Potter's diving, Potter's diving! Has he seen the Snitch, or is it only one of his famous tricks? Parkin follows closely – this goes fast, people!"

George was sure they were going to crash, and the family on the bench beside them apparently thought the same, because the boy was shouting, and the woman was pale.

"He's not going to make it..." murmured Fred as the two seekers closed in on the ground.

Just when George thought Harry would crash, he pulled out. Amazingly he managed to pull out in that speed so close to the ground! A thud sounded as Parkin hit the ground, and a moan was barely audible from the English fans while the Aussies cheered enthusiastically.

"No! Potter has tricked Parkin! Fourteen years old Harry Potter tricks out the experienced Parkin on his first match! Unbelievable, this boy! Mr. Weber has really hit the spot this time!" shouted the speaker.

"Not very neutral, that speaker, is he?" Ron grumbled. "Aren't commentators supposed to be neutral?"

"Who cares!" Fred shouted, "That was amazing! Like Krum last year!"

"Only this is Harry!" George filled in.

Parkin appeared to be out, because he was still not moving on the ground, and the referee moved over to review him. Harry continued circling the pitch as a couple of minutes passed, and finally Parkin was moving. Slowly and unsteadily he got up and picked up his broom.

"- and Robinson scores! Hundred and thirty to twenty for Australia! Choudry tries a Bludger at Emerson, but Quigley's got it! And now Parkin is moving! He's up!"

"Go on Parkin!" shouted Ron as the seeker passed their box on his way up to Harry. "Get that bloody snitch!"

"Language, Ron," scolded his father.

Harry was already on the move again, zooming past them so a gust of wind hit them tightly followed by a second as Parkin passed for the second time. A black ball hurled towards Harry and forced him to roll below his broom and up on the other side to avoid being hit in the head, and then suddenly he angled straight upwards so Parkin flew a few hundred feet straight forward before he realized Harry was gone. At that point it was too late, and he once again managed to crash, this time into a pillar, and then fell to the ground.

"Can't he watch where he's flying?" Ron cried, sounding annoyed. "Get up!"

Parkin did just that, but only after the referee revived him, and with blood smeared over his face. This time Harry allowed him to recover a little before he set off, though being the target of most of the Bludgers sent from the English beaters. Gabriel and Ryan did their job well to protect him, but sometimes only Harry's observant eyes were the only thing that saved him.

This time George was sure he had caught a glimpse of gold twenty feet or so ahead of Harry.

"He's seen it! I've seen it! There's the Snitch!" he shouted.

"Where?" asked Ginny, searching the pitch.

"In front of Harry! There!" George pointed.

"I see it! Go, Harry!" urged Fred.

Parkin was still a few feet behind, but slowly catching up with Harry, who then increased the speed even more, pushing his broom to its limit. The distance between them increased, but then suddenly a Bludger appeared from his right, and Harry was forced to dip slightly to avoid it. They were right in front of the railings of one of the mid-levels when the Snitch zoomed off, and Harry lost sight of it because he looked around confused for a moment and barely managed to dive to avoid crashing. Parkin, who had been too focused on catching Harry, crashed for the third time, and Ron moaned.

"He's just as bad as Lynch!" he exclaimed.

"Don't say that!" said Ginny very Mrs. Weasley-like. "At least Lynch had enough focus on his surroundings to pull out sometimes!"

But then Harry had spotted the ball again, for he barely slowed down before he set off again. This time the big screens placed on the stadiums showed the snitch too, and the crowd was deafening. Fred leaned over the railings to see Harry race along the tribune right above them in order to catch the ball.

Parkin was up again, thanks to the reviving spell, though still dizzy and bloodied, he followed Harry, taking a shortcut and ending up neck and neck with him.

Beside them Neville had stood and was jumping and shouting: "Get it Harry! Get it!"

Harry had his arm outstretched. It was not as long as Parkin's, so he needed a few more inches. His broom increased its speed just slightly, giving him the foot or so, and more, allowing his hand to close around the ball.

"Yeah!" Fred and George shouted and started cheering along with the Australian audience. "Go Harry!"

"Harry! Harry! Harry! Harry!" the crowd chanted, and Fred, George and Neville joined in, soon followed by Ginny.

Ron slumped back in his chair, looking sour. "Show-off," he muttered. No one cared about that.

"Potter's got the Snitch!" shouted the speaker, "Australia wins four hundred and fifty to thirty!"

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry floated downwards, feeling awed by the response from the audience. Hugo almost crashed into him when he hugged him and shouted in happiness.

"Yeah!" His strong hands managed to shake him pretty well and then squish him before he was finally allowed to breathe. "That was amazing, Harry!"

Harry blushed and lowered his gaze shyly. "Thanks. I only did my job."

"Yeah, but in a brilliant way, Ryan filled in as he and Gabriel approached them and landed.

"Thanks for saving my ass out there, guys," Harry said with a smile.

"Like you said; we only did our job so that you could finish this off for us," Gabriel said.

"I'm sure Parkin got hell from you!" Ryan smacked his back so Harry almost stumbled.

After a shower and changing Harry prepared to leave the stadium, but found not only the Dursleys in the entrance hall, but also the Weasleys. He aimed for the Dursleys first, and was greeted with a hug from aunt Petunia.

"That was amazing, dear! You played amazingly!"

"Thanks, aunt Petunia. I'm glad you could come and watch," Harry replied with a small smile.

"Of course! We wouldn't miss it for the world. Our nephew is an international Quidditch player," uncle Vernon said, sounding just as proud as he was when bragging about Dudley's boxing matches.

Harry blushed heavily. "Um... thanks, I guess."

Then he suddenly felt two hands on his shoulders. "Harry, why didn't you tell us?" asked the mocking mortified voice of Fred.

Harry turned and looked at the grinning twins. "Because I didn't want anyone to take me back there. Well, now I am an Australian citizen, and they can't do a damn thing."

"What happened to your voice?" asked George.

"And your accent?" added Fred.

"And your body?"

"What happened to little, scrawny Harry we remember from Hogwarts?"

Harry chuckled. "He's gone. I'm not returning."

"Well... great game anyway. Always knew you could go professional if you wanted to," Fred said.

"Though not for Australia," George continued.

"You can thank yourself, Ron, for that Australia got this amazing seeker rather than England!" Fred called to Ron, who merely huffed and crossed his arms angrily.

Mr. Weasley promptly ignored his youngest son and walked towards Harry with a wondrous, though critical expression. "Hello. I believe we haven't met yet, Mr. Potter. I'm Arthur Weasley," he said and stretched out his hand.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied and shook his hand gently.

Ginny was slowly approaching too, looking curiously at Harry. "Hi," she said carefully. "I'm Ginny. We met at King's Cross."

Harry smiled weakly and grabbed her outstretched hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Weasley. I'm Harry."

"Why did you leave?" she asked.

Harry hesitated, not quite sure if he should tell them. He didn't want them to think he was whiny, so he merely shrugged.

"Come on, son," uncle Vernon said and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Harry was cruelly treated while studying at Hogwarts, so when we heard we figured he deserved better, and moved here."

The explanation had both Ginny and Mr. Weasley gaping.

"What do a muggle like you know how he was treated at school?" Ron snorted.

It was not uncle Vernon who acted, but Dudley. Being just as tall as Ron he walked over and glared into his eyes. "You might remember who hexed him with the Sardine hex and locked him inside the Quidditch locker room for a whole weekend?" he asked challengingly, but with an angry expression.

"It was me. So? What are you going to do with that?" Ron replied, not even moving an inch, and simply ignoring his father's now angered look.

"Ron, I'd better watch it if I were you," warned Fred.

"Harry told us Dudley is regional champion in boxing – where they hit people on purpose," George said.

At that Ron guffawed. "And you think you are going to beat me up? A muggle?" He laughed even harder.

"Are you afraid of being beaten up by a muggle, Weasley?" Dudley asked and cracked his knuckles.

"As if a silly muggle can hurt me, a wizard," Ron snorted.

Dudley grabbed hold of Ron's shirt and threw him backwards so he landed with a _thump_ on the floor more than ten feet away. Mr. Weasley hurried over to him and helped him up, but he did not look very worried. He looked rather angry.

"Just wait till your mother hears about this, Ronald! You are not allowed to call muggles silly, am I making myself clear?" he said sternly.

"Yes, dad," Ron said, his ears turning redder than his hair in embarrassment.

"Good. Let's go. Fred, George, Ginny, come with me." Mr. Weasley started to walk towards the exit. "Locking someone up for a whole weekend! Your mother is not going to be happy when she hears this. I guess Potter isn't the one you always said, huh, Ronald?"

"Bye, Harry," the twins said and trotted after their father and slumping brother with Ginny right behind, waving at Harry.

"Bye, guys."

"And tell us about the next match; we'll be there without ickle Ronniekins over there," George said.

"I will."

Harry barely managed to pass Leo before he was almost run down by Lionpaws shouting and screaming.

"Harry! I can't believe you didn't tell us!" cried Mark, one of the eight years.

"Why would you keep something like that a secret from your own house?" asked Tiarni.

Then everything drowned in the mass of voices until a loud whistle turned them dead silent. Marcus was standing on a table blowing his fingers, but lowered them as everyone turned towards him.

"Give him a break! He can't tell anything if you keep on shouting." He jumped down from the table and clapped Harry's shoulder. "Good game, mate."

"Thanks, Marcus," Harry replied with a small smile. "Anyway, I didn't tell anyone because Mr. Weber told me not to. He wanted the new seeker to be a surprise. Besides, it would have made me sound like an egocentric jerk."

"We heard the match over the radio. Genius Wronski Feints!" Jerry said. "I bet Whistlewind's trembling in fear for the next season."

Harry laughed. "Christensen is not _that_ easily scared."

"Oh, you don't know about that."

_ANC ANC ANC_

_Dear Harry,_

_Again, thanks for the tickets to the match. It was awesome to watch. Anyway, the news has reached Britain that you are living in Australia. Dumbledore has ordered Aurors out to fetch you, so be prepared._

_Not much is going on here. The third task is approaching, and Fred and George are contemplating on telling the true reason of why you left. They're tired of all the fake rumours, like "Harry is trying to get even more publicity" and so on. Especially Ron is telling everyone what a "show-off" you were at the match, but I think it's all bullshit. You were great, and Weasley don't know anything. He's just jealous because you are a talented player, and he's not. He got detention with Professor McGonagall out the year, she being the only one who believed what Mr. Weasley said. Fred and George said that the other teachers agree with Ron, believing you deserved the punishment. Professor McGonagall was furious when she heard Mr. Weasley's explanation of why you left._

_How are things going in Australia? How is school? When is your next Quidditch match? I'd like to watch._

_Neville._

___ANC ANC ANC_

"What's going on in Britain?" Marcus asked from across the table and peered over the Telegraph.

"Ron Weasley got detention and Dumbledore has sent out aurors to get me," Harry said.

"But they can't do anything, right? You're an Australian citizen; he's got no control over you even if he's in the Wizengamot," Julian piped up.

"Like that's going to stop him," Harry muttered. "I'm surprised he hasn't come here to get me already."

"Don't worry, Harry. We'll stand beside you if they come here to take you. Besides, Headmistress Reaburn would never accept anyone taking one of her students like that. She might be strict, but she is fair," Jonathan said. "The connection to the floo network is heavily warded, as is the rest of the castle. No one with bad intentions can enter."


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

___ANC ANC ANC_

_That night Harry fell into a restless sleep with flashes of green crossing his vision and a cruel laughter._

_Voldemort was excited; Harry sensed it. Wormtail was kneeling in front of the chair in which he was sitting in. "You've got news for me, Wormtail?"_

"_Y-yes, your Lordship. Great news I believe. The Prophet writes that the P-potter-boy has been hiding in Australia, lastly seen playing for the A-Australian Quidditch team against England," Wormtail stuttered._

"_Ah! That's marvellous, Wormtail! Get Barty, and then we'll go to Australia, my dear friend," Voldemort exclaimed happily and laughed. "The boy will not escape a third time."_

"Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Harry sat up, gasping for air, and immediately grew dizzy by the sudden movement so he lay back down. His pyjama shirt was wet with sweat and clinging to his torso. His dorm mates were leaning over him with worried expressions.

"Harry, are you okay?" asked Dylan and handed him his glasses.

Harry put them on and nodded. "Yeah. For now. Voldemort is coming to Australia."

Marcus didn't hesitate; he grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him out of bed. Not caring if they only wore their pyjamas he dragged him out of the dorm and through the common room with the rest of the boys behind.

"Wait! Where are we going?" Harry exclaimed.

"We have to tell the Headmistress. If Voldemort is coming to Australia, we have to be prepared," Marcus said as they ran past Leo and down the tower staircase.

"But she's not going to believe us!" Harry protested.

"She has to!" Marcus said and broke into a run through the corridors to get to the entrance Reaburn's office.

After several minutes of running they skid to a halt in front of a big statue of a kangaroo. It was looking quizzically at them, but didn't say anything.

"How are we going to get in? We don't know the password," Dylan said.

"Err... Mr. Kangaroo? May we pass? We must talk to professor Reaburn," Julian tried.

The Kangaroo merely glared at him.

"What is going on here?" sounded a sharp voice from behind, and Harry flipped around. Professor Reaburn was standing there with her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

"We think Voldemort is coming to Australia, ma'am," said Marcus.

Reaburn frowned in disbelief. "Church bells," she said, and the Kangaroo jumped aside, revealing a staircase leading upwards and through the ceiling. "Come with me." She started climbing the stairs.

Exchanging a glance with Marcus Harry followed her up and in through a door, with Dylan, Julian, Jonathan and Marcus right behind. The stairs took them to the top of the tower and inside a circular room with a desk with stacks of parchments was with a chair behind. The walls were covered with ceiling-high bookshelves, filled with books so tightly not even a piece of parchment could fit in between. The few parts of the walls which were not hidden behind books had portraits instead and a fireplace left to the desk.

Professor Reaburn waved her hand, conjuring five chairs for them to sit down, and placed herself in the chair behind her wooden desk. "Now, explain, young men. Voldemort is dead, so what is the reason for this urgent meeting?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't think he's dead, because I had a vision about him," Harry began, not sitting down unless told so.

"A vision?" Professor Reaburn asked critically. "And please sit down." She waved towards the chairs casually.

"Ma'am, we figured Harry's scar is a curse Voldemort made the day he attacked Harry and killed his parents. It enables him to see right inside Voldemort's mind," Dylan explained helpfully as he sat down on a vacant chair.

Professor Reaburn narrowed her eyes slightly as if trying to evaluate their explanation by merely looking at them. "I can see that one. You would have noticed now had he died, right Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Okay, then. Now, what about this vision; what did you see?" She folded her hands while looking at him patiently.

"Eh... I've had visions like these before, ma'am, always about Voldemort trying to find me. Now his servant, Wormtail, has found out where I am, thanks to the reports from the Quidditch match in the Daily Prophet. He said he was going to get Barty, whoever he might be, and go to Australia."

Reaburn suddenly got an alarmed expression and turned towards one of the portraits holding a man in an old sailor's uniform from the early nineteen hundreds. "Philip, would you please go tell Minister Bailey I have urgent news?"

"Yes, ma'am," the sailor said and disappeared from his frame.

"God thanks Trifle resigned. He'd only panic," she muttered.

Just a few moments later the fireplace lit up in green flames, and a man with dark grey hair and brown eyes dressed in night robes stepped out, looking at Professor Reaburn.

"What is going on, Julia? What's so urgent you have to wake me in the middle of the night?" he growled in dismay before his eyes fell on the boys, who had dutifully stood for the Minister.

Professor Reaburn waved them down and quickly explained what the boys had told her, but Minister Bailey didn't look convinced.

"Am I supposed to believe this? That a fourteen-year-old's dream is enough to claim that Voldemort is alive and will come to Australia?" he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"He mentioned Barty!" Reaburn hissed lowly.

"Barty? Junior or senior?" Minister Bailey frowned and stepped closer to her.

"Oh, senior, don't you think?" Professor Reaburn asked ironically while glaring at him.

Bailey frowned even more. "Merlin's beard... I have to contact the aurors. Hopefully they're not sleeping on duty," he said and hurried over to the fireplace. Throwing a handful of floo powder inside he shouted "Ministry of Magic, Department of Defence!", and then he stepped in and disappeared.

The conversation had frightened Harry. Who was Barty, and what was it about him that made the Minister react so fast?

"Excuse me, Professor?" he asked carefully, catching the eye of Professor Reaburn.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Who is Barty, ma'am?"

Professor Reaburn sighed and walked over to a shelf where she pulled out an old newspaper which she placed on the desk in front of the boys. The front page was covered with a photograph of a green skull in the sky with a snake protruding out of its mouth.

DEATHEATER ATTACK AT THE WORLD CUP

"Barty, or Barty Crouch Jr., is as you saw in your dream one of Voldemort's followers. The reason for why we have to react is that one of our correspondents had been at the World Cup last winter, but he was knocked out under the chaos. When he woke up he witnessed Barty conjured the Dark Mark – Voldemort's mark, in the sky from the forest. He didn't get to tell the aurors before they had framed a house elf instead because she was holding the wand Barty had used to conjure the mark," Reaburn explained. "Do you know what this means?"

"That an innocent house elf is falsely framed, ma'am?" tried Julian.

She looked at him with a grave face. "That too, Mr. Pennington, but I was thinking of something else. It means that the man we thought to be dead is not dead after all, and considering his loyalty to Voldemort during the first war, it's almost a hundred percent certain that he will try to bring back his master. You are Voldemort's target, Mr. Potter. I do not know why as of yet, but the vision you got should be taken seriously."

Harry let his gaze fall to the floor as he realized something. "It's my fault if he comes here, ma'am," he said carefully.

The room turned silent for a moment or so before Professor Reaburn strode over to him and knelt in front of his chair. "Mr. Potter – Harry. Look at me."

Harry reluctantly, yet surprised, met her gaze, which was filled with worry and... care?

"This is_ not_ your fault. It is not your fault that he marked you when you were just a baby. You couldn't have done anything. And no one blames you for moving from Hogwarts considering what you've been through. Voldemort is guilty of the first, Dumbledore and Britain of the latter. It's not your fault. Do you hear me, Harry?" she said, slowly and calmly.

Harry didn't know what to think. This new Professor Reaburn had taken him off guard, and he had no idea what to do next. "But – " he began before catching himself at it. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Because you are a very powerful wizard, Harry, I have no doubt about that. You could probably even become an Animagus if you put your mind to it. Go back to bed, now. You need the sleep for your match against Canada tomorrow," she said and retreated to her chair.

"Yes, ma'am." Harry rose and followed his dorm mates towards the door. He was only halfway across the room when Professor Reaburn's voice stopped him.

"Good luck."

Harry smiled weakly. "Thank you, professor."

Harry did not easily fall asleep again, understandably after the news he had received, and when he did, it was a restless, light sleep broken at dawn. With a sigh he dragged himself out of bed and left for the bathroom.

When he was done Marcus was hanging out between the curtains of his bed, searching for something in his trunk.

"Morning," Harry grumbled.

"Good morning, Harry. Looking forward to the match?" Marcus asked, glancing up at him.

"I guess. The dream makes me nervous, though," he muttered and tied his shoes just as a scared voice came from Jonathan's bed.

"No! Please! I won't forget the Jumping Stits! I'll remember them this time! Please!" Jonathan cried.

Marcus shook his head in resignation. "Still having nightmares after that Magical Creatures lesson, isn't he?"

"Yeah. I don't understand why, though. The Jumping Stits were funny enough," Harry said and made his way over to Jonathan's bed. "Jonathan, it's just a dream," he said, nudging him.

Jonathan opened his eyes and jerked upright with heavy breathing. "Oh Merlin! Did I wake you?"

"Nah. Already awake. Look, guys, I'm going down for breakfast. Mr. Weber told us to be at the Aquarium at eight O'clock, and I have to write a warning to the Dursleys. If Voldemort comes to Australia, their place would be the first place he would look," Harry said and headed for the door.

The Aquarium was the nickname for Cockatoo Island Stadium, mainly because of the design. Gabriel had come up with it since he didn't bother to say the full name of the stadium and claimed that "the stadium" was too boring.

From the Aquarium they would take a portkey to Canada for Harry's second away match, the first ending in a victory in South Africa. So far they had played several home matches, against New Zealand among others, and never lost one match so far. Though Mr. Weber had warned them that the Canadian beaters were two men you should keep up for. They were said to have a spot on aim and deadly hits.

After breakfast Harry grabbed his broom and bag and used the floo in Professor Daniels' office to get to the Aquarium since the pillow didn't work from Waratah. Figuring the others were probably in the locker rooms he hurried down to the basement and jogged through the corridor until he found the door.

Mr. Weber was waiting in the main locker room, and the voices from both the ladies' and the men's rooms revealed the team's presence.

"Morning, Harry. Go get your things and meet us here," he said with an encouraging smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Weber," Harry replied. "I'll be as quick as I can, sir." He pushed through the door to the men's locker room, receiving greetings from his team mates on his way to his locker.

Opening it he pulled put two of the green and gold match uniforms and put them in his bag where his boots and gloves already were seeing as he had brought them from Waratah. Making sure he'd gotten everything he needed he returned to the main room where Mr. Weber had pulled out an empty wine bottle. Everyone gathered around it as it started to glow, and Harry placed a couple of fingers on it just as he felt the familiar tug behind his navel and the world started swirling.

_ANC ANC ANC_

The team won the match easily three hundred and forty to hundred thanks to Harry catching the snitch. The Canadian beaters had chosen him as their favourite target, but hadn't hit him more than once. His broken ribs were healed after the match.

What he had met at school he knew he should have expected, but he didn't so he was surprised when people started following him and whisper among themselves. Occasionally a few would step towards him and nervously ask for an autograph. He tried to be polite as he refused, since he didn't want to hurt them, while on the other hand he didn't want the attention. Mostly the fans were girls, but there were also a few boys, and most of them were from fifth year and younger, since the older had more sense than to chase him through the corridors of Waratah castle.

With winter break fast approaching the student body at Waratah would normally be eagerly discussing what do to in the holidays, but this year most were silent. The news of Voldemort's possible arrival to Australia had spread like wildfire, and people were insecure of leaving their safe homes. To Harry's great relief no one blamed him for it, and rather told him to ask them for help if he ever needed it. Harry valued this more than anyone could imagine, and vowed that if Voldemort ever reached the castle of Waratah Harry would protect it and its residents with all his might.

"Potter!" called a voice from the Sterling table, and Harry looked up from his roasted snapper. "You mind if we bring the mascots to the match against Croatia on Saturday?"

"'Course not!" Harry called back. "Just make sure you don't scare Hugo, like last time. We can't let them have points for free."

The room erupted in laughter.

"Make sure you beat the hell out of Pavlou!" called another one from Drizzledrop.

"Will do," Harry replied with a grin. "Though I might hint to Ryan and Gabriel about it..."

"Come on, Harry," said Dylan as he flipped the pages of today's Telegraph, which headline was _Diggory won the Triwizard Cup_, "we want to see your Feints."

"They're not that special," Harry argued, shoving a fork with fish inside his mouth.

"Only special enough to knock out every single opposing seeker so far, eh?" Marcus challenged. "Can't wait till you'll be playing Krum."

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I'm unsure who I should choose as Harry's girlfriend. I am a big fan of canon pairings, but if you think I should choose a girl in Australia, please tell me. Also, I'm not doing Harry/Hermione._

_And I do consider making Harry an animagus. The concept really fascinates me. What do you think about it?_


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_ANC ANC ANC_

"Stupid bird," Harry muttered as the finch he was to transfigure took off and landed on the top of a bookshelf in the library. Merely stretching out his hands he focused; _Accio bird_, and the bird came zooming into his arms. He placed it back on the table with a sight. "Now, stay there, or I'll make you."

"Harry?" asked Julian, glancing up from the book he was reading.

"What?" Harry replied, somewhat annoyed of being interrupted.

"You remember Headmistress Reaburn say you could become an Animagus if you wanted to?" Julian wondered, his face holding a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"Yeah, so?" Harry glanced at him before focusing on the quill the finch once was and waved his hand. Within a blink of an eye a quill lay in front of him instead of the bird.

"I thought... I thought maybe you wanted to try? I know for certain I can't do it, so it'd be cool if you could," Julian said.

Harry frowned thoughtfully and ruffled his hair subconsciously. "I don't know how clever it would be, though, since the transformation is extremely difficult and dangerous."

"That might be the reason professor Reaburn said you could do it," Julian argued.

"You mean she wants to put me in danger?" Harry stared at him with disbelief.

"No! I meant that she believes you could do the transformation even though it's difficult. She has faith in you," Julian said.

Harry merely snorted. "I'm not in the mood for a joke right now, Julian," he said and put the quill into his bag before he stood and left.

Even though Harry protested against it, Julian, with help from Dylan, eventually managed to convince Harry to become an Animagus and when he started to learn the theory and practice in late June, they tried too, but without much success.

_Harry was standing in an old graveyard. Most of the graves were overgrown with moss, and the letters on the stones were fading. There were several mausoleums and monuments spread around. Not far away a cauldron big enough to hold an adult was placed on a fire and the water in it was boiling. _

_Just then the door of a mausoleum opened, and a small man with watery eyes stepped out. Harry immediately recognized him as Wormtail. He was carrying a kind of horrifying creature in his arms. It looked like a crouched human child, but on the other hand not like it in any way. The skin was reddish black and looked raw and scaly. Its face reminded Harry of a snake, except the eyes, which were bloody red._

_Wormtail walked over to the cauldron and slipped the creature into the bubbling wate. Wheezing slightly he spoke: "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son," he said as a bone appeared from a grave marked with _Tom Riddle_. It was levitated to the cauldron and dropped into the water with a splash._

"_Flesh from the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master." Wormtail pulled out a silver knife and walked over to the cauldron. With a cry of pain that had Harry shiver he cut his right hand off._

"_Blood from the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe." Wormtail waddled over to the stranger and pulled out his arm even as the man tried to resist. He pulled out a vial filled with a red liquid undoubtedly blood and emptied it in the water._

_Then the water started boiling even more viciously, and black smoke started swirling around, stopping Harry from seeing what was happening. After a while, though, the smoke cleared, revealing a skeletally thin man with slits as nostrils and dark scarlet eyes. His fingers were long and spider's leg-like, and his lipless mouth curved into a smile as he stepped towards Wormtail._

"_M-master..." Wormtail stuttered, bowing deeply as he clutched the stump of his hand._

"_Give me my wand, Wormtail," Voldemort demanded, holding out a hand._

_Wormtail obediently placed the yew wand between his master's bony fingers, his own hands trembling slightly._

"_Genius that trick, using that old coot's blood. Remind me to reward Severus for it, Wormtail," Voldemort said, sounding smug."Your arm, Wormtail."_

_Wormtail's face, which had to now been twisted in pain, got a look of relief as he raised his right arm where only the stump was left. "T-Thank you, Master, thank you," he stuttered._

"_Not that! The other hand!" Voldemort barked, and Wormtail quickly switched. "Though you would not do with only one hand... and you have done well these past months." He waved his wand, and a silver hand appeared where Wormtail's old had been._

_In utter surprise Wormtail knelt in front of Voldemort and bent forward. "T-thank you, M-master!"_

"_Now, get up. Now, there won't be any party without any guests, would it?" Voldemort pulled up the sleeve of Wormtail's left arm and pushed the jet black mark on his forearm with a devilish grin._

_Merely seconds later a series of pops filled the dark graveyard, and masked Death Eaters with their heads covered with black hoods appeared around Wormtail and Voldemort. While Wormtail visibly shrunk, Voldemort started pacing._

"_Well, well, well. Finally decided to return now, have you? I wonder... why did it take so long time? Why did none of you bother to come after me? Macnair? Yaxley? Avery? Crabbe? Goyle? Karkaroff? Lucius! Tell me!"_

"_M-master?" One of the Death Eaters knelt and removed his mask, revealing a face Harry immediately related to Draco Malfoy. A pale, pointed face, cold, grey eyes and pieces of pale, blonde hair visible beneath the hood._

"_But now, that we all gathered again, I choose to forgive you all in the knowledge that you will not disappoint me one more time."_

Harry jerked awake and looked around, expecting to see Voldemort right in front of him. He only saw the bed curtains and Marcus' face as he peered through with a worried expression. With his heart racing in his throat Harry sat up, realizing what he had seen.

"He's back. He's really back," he said.

Marcus didn't say anything. Like the one time before he pulled Harry out of the dorm and through the castle to Professor Reaburn's office.

"Church bells," Marcus said, but to no avail. The kangaroo didn't budge. "We _need_ to find a professor. Come."

Harry was then pulled through another set of corridors to Professor Daniels' office where Marcus knocked impatiently on the door. After well over a minute a sleepy Professor Daniels appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Benjamin, what are you doing here at five in the morning?"

"Harry had a vision. About Voldemort," Marcus urged, hoping their Head of House would understand.

Apparently Professor Reaburn had told him, because he quickly stepped out in the corridor and closed the door. "Follow me please," he said and strode off towards Professor Reaburn's office again. "Bubbleflower petals," he said, and the Kangaroo started moving.

Professor Daniels ran up the stairs and through the door. When Harry and Marcus caught up with him he was already knocking on a second door, probably leading to the headmistress' private quarters.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" sounded Professor Reaburn's somewhat annoyed voice before the door slid open. "Adam, what are you doing here at this hour?" she asked before her gaze found Harry's. "Oh dear."

Ensuring that her night robe was properly tied she stepped inside her office and shut the door. "Another vision, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am. He has returned. His servant performed a ritual which gave his body back," he explained quickly.

"Oh no..." Professor Reaburn covered her face for a moment before turning to Professor Daniels, who looked afraid. "Would you contact Minister Bailey?"

"Right away." Professor Daniels visibly collected himself and threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace and stuck his head into the flames.

"What does this mean, Professor?" Harry asked carefully and looked at the headmistress.

"Tell me more about this vision, please," she merely said and sat down in her chair before conjuring two chairs for Harry and Marcus with a wave of her hand.

Harry explained what he had seen. All the time Professor Reaburn listened quietly.

"Well, since you mentioned there was a grave with the name Tom Riddle on we can say for sure that he's _not_ in Australia. Do you know Voldemort's real name, Mr. Potter?" she asked, her fingers playing with a quill.

"No, ma'am, but since Tom Riddle obviously was his father, I guess his last name is Riddle as well," he told her honestly.

"Correct. He is named after his muggle father if I remember correctly. Our last headmaster went to Hogwarts with him before moving here, and he told me this while I was still a Charms professor here," she explained.

"Why does he want me, ma'am? Why did he try to kill me that night? What have I done?" Harry wondered, both confused and worried.

"Because of a prophecy I myself witnessed as I was searching the loft of Hogshead Inn for some old photos and documents of a believed-to-be Death Eater that was said to be hidden there. It said that a boy born to those who thrice defied the Dark Lord, born in the end of July, would be the one to defeat Voldemort. Severus Snape overheard at least part of the prophecy and told his master," Professor Reaburn said as Professor Daniels stood, and Minister Bailey shortly after stepped out of the fire.

"What's this talk about Voldemort being back?" Bailey's eyes fell on Harry. "Oh! Mr. Potter! It's true, then?"

Harry nodded curtly. "Yes, sir."

"But we don't think he's in Australia. Mr. Potter here mentioned the gravestone of his father, and as far as I know that's not placed in Australia," Professor Reaburn said.

"Then we don't have much time. People know where you are. We should be able to put up wards around the country," Bailey muttered, pacing back and forth. "Yes, yes, I shall contact the aurors immediately. Is there anything more you need me for?"

"I just want to ensure Mr. Potter's safety, seeing as he is dear to the people of Australia," Professor Reaburn said.

"Yes, of course. John won't be happy if he lost his best player," Minister Bailey said as he stepped towards the fireplace again. "Floo me if there's anything else, Julia. And Mr. Potter, I must thank you for being here to help us. I understand it can't be a pleasant experience to see right inside Voldemort's head, so if there's anything at all that you think I or the ministry can help you with, don't hesitate to contact me, okay?"

"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, rather shocked. He had not expected to receive such a support from the minister.

Bailey nodded and disappeared with a swirl of green flames as Professor Reaburn turned towards Harry again.

"He's right, Mr. Potter. We can thank you for the warning. Now we can probably stop him from entering the country at all," she said.

"I'm glad to help, ma'am. After all I am the reason of all this mess," Harry said, and Marcus nudged him annoyed.

"It's not! It's not your fault! When are you going to understand that? It isn't your fault!"

"Mr. Lowe is right. Now, please go to bed. You will be safe tonight. If you need, step by the hospital wing to get a dreamless sleep potion, Mr. Potter."

_ANC ANC ANC_

The next morning wizarding Australia woke up to a shock in the Jungle Telegraph.

VOLDEMORT HAS RETURNED

_Almost fourteen years ago a small boy only a year old vanquished the Dark Lord and ended a long war in Britain. Now, however, Voldemort has been reborn under circumstances still unknown._

_- It is certain that Voldemort is reborn. Our source is certain, we have no doubt, though the British ministry has not acknowledged his return," says Minister Bailey. He ensures magical Australia that the country is well protected, and the wards are reinforced. – Voldemort's interest in Harry Potter is certain to at least make him attempt to access our country, but we do not blame Mr. Potter for this. He is not to fault that Voldemort chose to mark him when he was only a year old, and he is not to fault that Voldemort returned. The Ministry have decided to increase the level of security, especially in Wattle Avenue and around Waratah Castle, and we put the safety of Mr. Potter especially high since he is Voldemort's target. Mr. Potter is after all an Australian citizen._

___ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I don't quite understand how everyone says anything but Harry/Ginny. I'm not sure if I want to know why, though. If there's anything special you're wondering about, feel free to send me a PM._


	14. Chapter 14

So far Harry and the rest of the national team had crushed every opponent in the Commonwealth Cup, and they were now ready for the finals against New Zealand somewhere in the mountains of South Island right before Christmas. Even though it was summer there was still ice there. Mr. Weber laughed when Harry had mentioned it.

"No, it's a glacier, Harry," he said.

"Oh."

Harry had sent only four tickets to the Weasleys; two for the twins and one for Ginny since Fred and George mentioned that she had said she wanted to watch the game plus one for an adult to go with them. Neville also got one, this time saying he'd go with the twins, so his "Gran" didn't need one. Then Harry had given one to each of his dorm mates and three to the Dursleys.

Holidays having already started Mr. Weber told them to expect a lot of people watching the match, and when they entered the pitch they were not disappointed. Though most of them wore black and white scarves there were a lot of green and gold as well, and Dylan made sure to make the Lionpaw lion audible among the cheering.

The referee blew in his whistle, and the match was on in no time, and Harry zoomed off past the New Zealand seeker King, making him quickly turn around and chase after him only to find it pointless a few seconds later as Harry slowed down.

As the match progressed Harry realized that King was not that easy to knock out on a Wronski Feint, and their beaters were very good at aiming. Several times Harry avoided the bludgers by mere inches, but Ryan and Gabriel did well to revenge him by hitting a chaser every now and then. At one point Ryan also hit King, and Gabriel did the New Zealand Keeper right afterwards, leaving only the three chasers to defend the hoops. It was just bad luck Harry didn't manage to catch the snitch before King was up again, but by the time the keeper was back on his broom Australia had built up a solid lead, leading with more than three hundred points.

Then Harry spotted the golden ball, just behind King, so he pretended to be following him, and snatched the ball while King was none the wiser. Only the roaring crowd told him that he had lost the fight against the youngest seeker ever.

Down on the ground the rest of the Australian team was waiting for him, and Mr. Weber came running across the snow covered pitch and joined in on a group hug.

"We won! The cup's ours!" he exclaimed happily as Dylan's lion roared loudly from the stands.

Harry felt slightly dizzy. They had won the finals! They had won, and he had caught the snitch! Acting on automatic he followed his team mates as they were given their prize; a big cup and a bag each, containing one thousand galleons. And then the national anthem. Even though being born British he felt more Australian, and the chills running down his back as the song was sung across the stadium were proof of that.

Still in quite a daze Harry followed the others to the locker rooms under the stands.

"Tonight; party!" Hugo exclaimed, grinning madly as he pulled off his clothes and strode into the shower room.

Afterwards Harry found the twins, Ginny and another red-haired stocky man Harry didn't recognize waiting beside the main entrance beside Dylan, Marcus, Jonathan and Julian.

"Hey! There comes the star!" Dylan teased as Harry walked out of the elevator.

"Shut it, Dylan," Harry replied, blushing slightly.

"Great match, Harry," Fred and George chorused, slapping his shoulders. "Here, have a jam tart. It tastes delicious!"

They held out something that looked like a custard cream, and Harry, thinking none the worse of it, lifted his hand to grab it.

"Don't, Harry!" Ginny exclaimed.

Harry looked at her quizzically. "Why not, Miss Weasley?"

"Please, it's Ginny. And that's not a jam tart. It's a Canary Cream, one of the twins' inventions. Turns you into a large canary," she quickly explained.

The twins moaned disappointed. "Did you have to ruin all the fun, Gin?" Fred asked.

"We don't fancy one of the world's best Quidditch players turning into a canary, do we?" she stated, placing her hands at her hips and looking very stern.

Harry had to fight to not laugh. "Is it true? A prank?" he asked, grinning at the idea.

The twins grinned and placed their arms around his shoulders.

"Yep."

"The very best."

"Invented by ourselves."

"The ones and only..."

"Gred..."

"and Forge."

"We were to open this joke shop,"

"We've been selling products for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for a year,"

"And we want to expand."

"But the money we won on the bets at the World Cup,"

"Were leprechaun money."

"Disappeared in thin air."

Harry laughed. "A joke shop! Genius!" As an idea hit him he pulled the bag of money out of his gym bag and handed them to George. "Take them. I don't need them. And I don't even want to hear about you trying to pay them back. I've got more money than I can use already. Besides, a joke shop sounds really cool," he said.

For the first time he had known the twins they were actually out of words. They stared at him as if he was crazy before George tried to push them back to him. "No, no, we can't take all that! It's your money!"

"And I want you to have them. I never want to see those money again, do you hear me? If I do I'll hex you," Harry threatened.

The last male Weasley stepped closer. "I'm not sure how clever it is to give them all those money, Potter," he said. "Mum won't be happy about it, that's for certain."

"Well, then don't tell her," Harry said simply as he looked at the man. "Who are you, sir?"

"I'm Charlie," he said, holding out a hand. "Charlie Weasley if you haven't already guessed that."

Harry grabbed it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley."

"Just call me Charlie."

"Yes, sir."

Charlie frowned at that, but he didn't comment it.

"Charlie played seeker at Hogwarts too," Fred said.

"The best until you came along," George added.

"Works with dragons in Romania."

"But now he finally took the time to come home to visit his favourite brothers."

"Mum told him to take us to the game."

"As if we couldn't go by ourselves."

Just then Hugo and chasers Alex and Elizabeth came out of the elevator, and right behind them Ryan and Gabriel, the latter with Annie playfully flung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Harry! We're leaving shortly," Gabriel said and swung Annie around so she squealed.

"Yeah, I'll be right with you," Harry replied and looked back at his friends. Dylan looked starstruck, and so did Charlie.

"That's... that's Hugo Emerson! And Annie Whalan! And..." Charlie didn't finish the sentence and merely gaped at them.

Ginny nudged his side. "Close your mouth! Yes, they are who they are, but you don't have to gape like a fish. It's embarrassing."

Charlie quickly shut his mouth, but he was still staring.

"Harry, are you coming?" Gabriel asked.

"Yes. See you on monday, guys," he said and waved to his dorm mates.

"Yeah, I can't wait to go!" Dylan exclaimed.

They had been planning a trip to the Sahara Desert because Jonathan wanted to see a wizarding oasis he had found in a book in the library, and Julian wanted to use the opportunity to gather wings from a Hippifly, a kind of dragonfly native to the Sahara.

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry did his first Animagus transformation in the dorm the first evening after the break.

"I guess we need more than discipline to do it. Something Harry has, but we don't," Marcus reasoned.

"The ability to make a patronus in his third year while we continued trying for one more year," Dylan grumbled.

"I think this was what Professor Reaburn was talking about, Harry. Only a very, very, _very_ strong wizard could transform within months," Julian said to the big stag in front of them. He was even taller than Marcus, who was looking a critically at him.

"It's the same as your patronus, Harry. That's a stag too," Marcus muttered.

The stag had faint dark circles around his eyes and a barely visible lightning bolt shaped mark in his forehead which you wouldn't notice unless you knew it was there, as well as big antlers that Jonathan watched nervously.

"I thought it would be a snake, seeing as you are a parseltongue," Jonathan said.

Harry turned back to his human shape and back just to make sure he could transform back before walking around the room; stumbling a little as he got used to walking on four rather than two legs. His antlers kept bumping into the chandelier which was hanging from the ceiling, so he lowered his head, which caused a change in his balance, and he stumbled over.

The boys laughed as Harry tried to gather his long legs and get up, which he did, but not after five or six attempts where he ended up on his nose again, being great entertainment for his dorm mates. Annoyed he changed back to human.

"Next time we take it to the Wandangoo forest," he huffed and left to look up the Light and Dark potion in the library. There were some places in the recipe where he was unsure of the book's description was right, because if he remembered correctly, willow catkins should always be added whole in a potion containing acromentula poison, and unicorn horn and bubbleflower milk should never be mixed in a potion, like described in the recipe. He was certain it would end up in a catastrophe, and the lesson was supposed to be tomorrow.

"Anyone want to join me outside?" Harry asked as he lay on his bed in the dorms.

_ANC ANC ANC_

It was Saturday, and he was bored. He had returned from the Aquarium a few hours ago after a match practice, but the stag inside was still restless, wanting to run.

Dylan looked up from the Magical Creatures essay he was working on. "Not now, Harry. Have to finish this."

"No... I'm tired... just want to sleep," Jonathan murmured and flicked his wand so the curtains around his bed closed.

Seeing as Julian was busy trying to erect his occlumency shields only Marcus seemed available.

"Okay, I'll go with you. What do you have in mind?" he asked and dragged himself out of his bed.

"Let out the stag," Harry replied and walked out the door.

Marcus hurried after him through the castle and out the front doors. "You know, you should probably be registered?" he said lowly as they aimed for the forest surrounding the castle grounds.

"Yeah..." Harry said, looking around to be sure no one followed them as they entered the forest. "Want a ride? I want to run." He changed into his deer and looked expectantly at Marcus.

"Sure." Marcus climbed onto his back, and Harry set off in a run into the forest.

He felt so free running in the forest. Everything about Voldemort and schoolwork just slipped out of his mind, and he allowed himself to think of nothing as he ran between the tall trees. Allowing his long legs to stretch even further he increased the speed, savouring the sense of freedom.

They crossed fallen logs, heather, not bothering to follow any path. Harry's instinctive sense of direction made it easy to get back to the castle anyway, so they didn't worry about getting lost.

Marcus clung to his back, being careful to avoid his antlers. "Where are we going, Harry?" he asked, though not expecting an answer.

Harry wasn't sure how long he had been running or how far away from the castle he was when he suddenly heard a voice.

"...being silly searching for him here," said a man.

Harry froze and twisted his ears towards the sound, his enhanced hearing picking up sounds at a distance only imaginable before. Also, his nose recognized the smell of wolf. His body tensed, and Marcus obviously noticed.

"What's going on, Harry?" he asked.

Harry ignored him and kept listening.

"I don't expect to find him here, Sirius, it's just that we don't have more clues that he's in Australia, and since he's at the right age, he'll be at school, namely Waratah, if I'm not completely mistaken," said another voice, also a man, but sounding much more tired.

"Why don't we just go to a match and find him there?" the man named Sirius asked.

"Because we don't have access to the players before, under or after the match as long as they are at the stadium," the second said, slightly exasperated, "and since we can't floo there or have anyone give us the direction, we have to search."

Harry slowly moved forward, smelling the air for every step. Marcus was slightly unsure of Harry's behaviour, since he didn't understand what his friend had reacted to.

"Then why don't we go to Wattara?" Sirius wondered.

Harry did not like this. The smells of both a wolf and a dog, and human as well. Another animagus, then?

"Harry, what's going on?" Marcus asked, nudging him in the shoulder.

With a sigh Harry transformed back to his human shape so Marcus fell to the forest ground with a yelp.

"Shh!" Harry hissed. "There are people here. Searching for someone. They smell of dog and wolf... I don't like this."

"Then we should leave?" Marcus suggested, frowning.

"Not yet. There's also human smell. I want to see. If there really are a wolf and a dog I can outrun them," Harry whispered. "Just follow me, but keep your wand ready." He transformed back into the stag so he could take full advantage of near invisibility, and slowly moved closer to the sound, his body tense and his senses sharpened.

After some minutes the two men came into view; a tall, well-built man with long, black lustrous hair and striking grey eyes and another tired-looking man with light brown hair with strands of grey, though he looked quite young. Raising his muzzle Harry sniffed in the air, which was luckily moving in their direction. He decided quickly that the man with light brown hair smelt part wolf while the other had a scent containing partly of dog.

Harry stood like frozen until Marcus moved up to his side, breaking a twig in the process. Shooting him a quick glare Harry prepared to turn human to defend Marcus if the two men were thinking of something.

The eyes of the black-haired man turned towards him, and just for bad luck Harry realized he was within view, because the man gasped.

"Moony, look!" he whispered to his mate.

Moony turned around to look too, and Harry started to back away. "That's a pretty stag, yes, but it's just a stag, Sirius," he said.

"Yes, but at first I imagined it was James. It looks quite like him, don't you think?" Sirius asked lowly.

Moony frowned. "Now that you mention it. But that's just a coincidence. James is dead, you know that. You saw it yourself."

"But don't you smell... Padfoot smells humans..." Sirius said slowly and got to his feet, and Moony inhaled slowly.

"Right..." he muttered.

Before Harry had managed to do anything he found himself surrounded by a blue light, and the next second he was back in his human form. Quickly, working on automatic he pulled his wand and pointed it towards Sirius and Moony before pushing Marcus behind him to protect him.

The two men gaped at him as if they had seen a ghost, and Harry was about to stun them when Sirius shouted: "We found him! We found Harry!"

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, aiming his wand at the two men, who were now standing side by side. "You're the aurors, right?"

"No! We're friends of your parents. I'm Remus Lupin," said Moony, "and this is Sirius Black."

Harry frowned. "Friends of my parents? Don't think I know who you are, Black. Did you or did you not betray my parents? The Telegraph says you never got a trial," he said, now pointing his wand at Sirius.

"I would rather die than to betray James and Lily!" Sirius exclaimed, kicking a rock in anger. "Damn Pettigrew did, that coward!"

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Harry asked, still with his wand raised.

"I recognized your stag. It's the same as your father's. He was an animagus too. Even now you look like him, only you have your mother's eyes," Sirius said, and for a moment he seemed to drift into some old memories.

"And you are animagi too? Is that why you smell like a dog? And a wolf?" Harry's eyes drifted towards Lupin.

"I am," Sirius said.

"I'm not. I'm a werewolf," Lupin told him honestly.

Harry slowly lowered his wand, but remained wary of any signs of attack from the two men. "And why were you searching for me?"

"Because we wanted to find you. We were worried when you disappeared; we couldn't let anything happen to James and Lily's boy if we could help it. Besides, your parents made me your godfather," Sirius said.

Harry staggered backwards a few steps, shocked. He had a godfather! One who actually cared! Or, wait.

"What now? Are you going to take me back to Britain?" he asked.

Sirius frowned, and Lupin ran his fingers through his hair.

"We were hoping you would, but we would never force you," Sirius said.

"I'd prefer not to. There's a reason why I left, and I like it much better here than in Britain," Harry said firmly, crossing his arms.

"Harry? Maybe we should get back to the castle?" Marcus suggested carefully, eyeing Sirius and Lupin warily.

"We should. Good bye, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin," he said and transformed to a deer.

Marcus climbed onto his back, and the two disappeared between the trees. Harry didn't see the two men hugging each other with wide grins on their faces.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I have decided to keep most of the replies to you short as it had been so long the last chapters. If there's anything special, if you want an explanation for something, PM me. I'll answer._


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning Harry was finished showering in time to see Jonathan being woken by the Aguamenti spell as usual. Coughing and spitting the boy tumbled out of bed and sent a stunning spell in Julian's direction, causing him to stiffen up and land as a plank of wood on the floor.

"Get off it, Jonathan! Breakfast in ten," Marcus said and pointed at Julian with his hand; "Rennervate."

The boys waited patiently – or impatiently for Dylan's case, for Jonathan to get dressed so they could head down for breakfast. Even after a wet wake-up Jonathan was still tired, but that only lasted until his girlfriend Olivia kissed him.

"Can't wait till the Magical Creatures lesson. Adrian said that the dragons are really cool," Jonathan said enthusiastically.

Marcus snorted. "I doubt we are going to _see_ dragons yet, if ever," he said. "Why are you so excited about them anyway? They're just going to burn your arse off."

"They are big, and they breathe fire, and they are – "

"Huge, dangerous lizards which kill you before you can move an inch," Julian stated.

"Besides, what does Adrian know? He's only seen them because his cousin works at the Marri Dragon Reserve."

Jonathan huffed and was about to reply when headmistress Reaburn stood from her chair. Everyone immediately stood as well, but she waved them down.

"I want to say a few words," she said. "Waratah Academy of Magic has been invited to participate in a Quidditch tournament against three other schools. The purpose is friendly competition, meet new people and create new friendships. Therefore we are to pick out one team based on all the four houses. The heads of houses and I have managed to put together possible players as well as reserves, and we think it is quite strong. I'll only be telling you the A-team, but the players on the reserve team will be found on a note outside the Great Hall." She paused and looked at her students for a moment. No one said a word, though there were different expressions around the room; excitement, boredom, uncertainty and nervousness to name a few. "The chasers and the beaters will be pulled from the same house as they are required to cooperate, thus we avoid wasting time on that. The keeper on the A-team will be Anthony Williams, Sterling, the chasers are Jasper Turnbull, Emma Catlin and Oscar Wild, Whistlewind. Beaters are Ivan Preston and Cristopher Chen, Drizzledrop. And the seeker – I doubt you are surprised; Harry Potter, Lionpaw."

No one said anything yet, but Harry could see that a lot were itching to ask a question.

"Any questions?"

About ten hands shot into the air; Harry's being among those.

"Miss Irwin?"

"Are we allowed to go with the team to watch the tournament, ma'am?" a girl on the Drizzledrop table asked.

"Oh, yes, those from fourth year and above will be allowed to come and watch," Professor Reaburn said. "Mr. Potter?"

"Where are we going?"

Professor Reaburn paled slightly, and did not look very comfortable in her place. "We are going to Scotland. More closely, Hogwarts. I'm sorry Mr. Potter."

"It's okay, professor," Harry replied, slightly disappointed. He was slightly afraid of meeting the students and the teachers again, but he knew that this time they couldn't harm him like before. He was much bigger and stronger now than he was when he was twelve, not to mention that he was also much more capable with magic.

"Don't worry, Potter, we'll make sure they treat you kindly," Ivan Preston called out from Drizzledrop table. "If they do anything, we'll just send a bludger after them."

The room was filled with low chuckles, and Harry couldn't help but join in. "Thanks," he replied.

"And Mr. Potter, in case you were worrying about Tom, I can tell you that fifteen aurors are going with us to Britain," Professor Reaburn added.

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Harry? Who's Tom?" asked Tiarni, leaning towards him.

"Tom Riddle," he replied curtly.

"And who's he?"

"Voldemort. He's back. Didn't you read the Telegraph?" Harry muttered indignantly.

"Relax. The most important thing is that they protect the country and you. Though with this tournament we might have a problem. I can't believe Professor Reaburn agreed to it now," Marcus said.

"I think as long as we stay on the school grounds we should be safe. Tom is afraid of Dumbledore, and for good reason," Harry explained.

ANC ANC ANC

Harry was looking forward to play, though it was everything between the games that worried him. At the team's first practice the next afternoon Harry was picked as captain, but Professor Douglas, who was often the referee at the matches at Waratah, was acting as a coach, helping them on tactics and how to work together. They would be leaving in the early days of October, so there weren't much time to practice. Harry imagined that if Hogwarts' team had Slytherins on they would have to work a lot to cooperate.

"That's an advantage for us," Cristopher said with a smile.

Mr. Weber had allowed Harry to skip practice with the team, but he still got the two practice snitches so he could practice while being away. In addition he told him that the team was to gather for two weeks of practice in January when they had a holiday anyway, since the tournament would make them stay in Scotland until autumn.

Harry had taken to write letters to Remus and Sirius as well as the twins, Neville and the Dursleys, and he told Remus and Sirius about the upcoming visit to Hogwarts. They had not hesitated to reply that they would return to Britain as well, and Harry promised Sirius that if he got an opportunity he would convince the ministry of putting up trial for him. Meanwhile he had taken advantage of an afternoon Minister Bailey had been at Waratah to discuss safety on the trip with Headmistress Reaburn. Harry had told him that he had accidentally met Sirius Black, but believed him to be innocent.

"So I had hoped you could do me the favour to set up a trial for him, sir? After all he is my godfather," Harry had explained.

"I am afraid, dear Mr. Potter, that even if we do set up a trial it will only work in Australia. The Brits don't care about much outside their own borders, so they won't care whatever we do," Minister Bailey said.

"But just so he could go freely at least one place, sir?" Harry begged.

Minister Bailey sighed. "You're a good boy, Mr. Potter. I'm proud to be your fellow citizen. I'll do what I can if you can assure me Black actually arrives at the trial."

"I will. Thank you very much, sir," Harry replied, grinning widely.

The next morning the Telegraph told him that the minister had succeeded.

BELIEVED MASS-MURDERER SIRIUS BLACK FINALLY GETS A TRIAL IN AUSTRALIA

_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement decided yesterday that Sirius Black was to be given a trial in Australia, though the Ministry is well aware of that it will not affect Britain in case Black is found innocent._

_- Britain is simply too busy with themselves to notice other countries and what they are doing, Minister Bailey says to the Jungle Telegraph. – Because we are well aware of that Black never got a trial we find it hard to be as assured of this case as the British Ministry of Magic, so a trial will be held Monday September 10__th__ courtroom 2 at 10 am._

_Minister Bailey further explains that they already have means to ensure Black learns about this trial. Whether he will appear or not is his own choice. _

"This is great!" Harry exclaimed and handed Marcus the newspaper. "I'm going to write to Sirius and Remus." He pulled out a piece of parchment and quickly scribbled a note to his father's best friends.

_Dear Sirius and Remus,_

_I have good news. If you haven't already learned so, there will be held a trial for Sirius at the Australian Ministry of Magic September 10__th__ at 10 am in courtroom 2. The entrance to the Ministry is easy to find; just go inside The Sebel Pier One and choose the fourth elevator. Muggles will only see three, and you can't be mistaken. It's the one with golden doors rather than steel. Once you enter you can ask for further guidance at the reception at first level._

_Harry._

"I'm happy for you, Harry," said Chrys said, leaning over to hug him. "He's your godfather after all."

"Yeah. I just wish that the Brits would see reason," he said.

"You know Brits, Harry, you more than any of us. You know how narrow-minded their minister is," Chrys, or rather Chrysanthemum, said as she rubbed his back caringly.

"At least I'm going to try to do something when in Britain," he said and looked at her. "Are you coming with us?"

"Of course I am! All the girls are going. And most, if not all the boys are going as well. We're proud of you, Harry."

"Thanks."

After breakfast Harry quickly did a detour to the owlery to find Hedwig. As soon as she caught sight of him she hooted and floated down before perching on his shoulder.

"Take this to Sirius and Remus, girl," he said softly and tied it to her leg.

Hedwig nipped his ear affectionately and set off northwards as Harry went down for his Herbology lesson. Much thanks to Professor Daniels he had figured he had talent for Herbology – not as much as Neville, according to the twins, though, but he still enjoyed working with plants.

As the tenth of September approached Harry couldn't help but be nervous, which caused him to drop one too many leaves of Sinacle into his potion. Luckily, the only consequence was that it turned too blue and was useless, so he just started anew.

Just after dinner Headmistress Reaburn pulled him aside and asked him to come with her to her office. Harry followed obediently, his hands shaking as he had a vague idea of what she wanted to say. He just hoped it was positive news.

Professor Reaburn climbed the stairs and opened the door. Harry stepped in behind her, but froze by the entrance. There, in a chair by the Headmistress' desk, sat a tall man with the familiar face of Sirius. His worried expression that had haunted him those few times Harry had seen him was gone, and in its place was a smile that had him look like he was twenty again. His dirty, worn clothes had been changed to a dark suit.

"You're free?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yes!" Sirius exclaimed and stood before opening his arms for a hug. Harry quickly complied. "Only for Australia, though."

"Don't worry, Sirius, I'll convince Fudge too," Harry said, smiling widely. He felt so happy he just wanted to bounce around like a Jumping Stit, careless about everything else than his happiness.

"That won't be so easy, Harry. Fudge is much more tricky and irrational than Minister Bailey. Australia has in fact not only a sane minister, but a very good-hearted and clever one as well," Sirius said and sat back down.

"Fudge is Fudge, I'll have him stuck in his own caramel," Harry concluded, drawing a laugh from both Sirius and Professor Reaburn. "After all, I do have the advantage of that both Dumbledore and the Ministry want me back, though for different reasons," Harry said and automatically waited for Professor Reaburn to sit before he sat down on the vacant chair beside Sirius.

"Huh. I guess the Ministry wants to use the boy-who-lived to strengthen their image and influence on their people, but I don't understand what Dumbledore wants with you," Sirius admitted.

Harry shrugged. He had no answer to that himself and looked hopefully at the headmistress for help.

"As you may know Professor Douglas is a member of the ICW, and she told me that there is a rumour flying from Britain that Dumbledore wants Harry to kill Voldemort, so I guess he wants to train you – "

"Or make sure I only know what is necessary to kill him," Harry interrupted. "Dumbledore knew very well about what the other students did to me at Hogwarts since it happened at meals several times, but he didn't do anything. Besides, he left me at the Dursleys knowing that they hated magic and didn't want me there at all until I was twelve. Why? Because he was afraid I would figure out who I really was? Dylan and I were discussing him, and we came to that conclusion that he didn't tell me anything about that night my parents died, about why Voldemort wants me or anything that could help me understand at that point even though he had a lot of chances. I was left in the dark.

"I ask again, why? He's a control freak, really, I realized a couple of months ago. He wants to have control over me. What other reason would he have to want me back? To take care for me when he ignored that I entered the Great Hall with a bloody nose after a hit from a Slytherin?"

Sirius tensed visibly at that, and his grey eyes sparkled up with anger. He was about to interrupt when Professor Reaburn raised a hand to him to keep him silent.

"He wants to have control over what I'm doing so that I can kill Voldemort for him. Dumbledore believes in a silly prophecy. The future is never locked. You can change it, but he doesn't seem to think so. Why he needs to control me to kill Voldemort I have no idea."

"That old fool!" Sirius exclaimed angrily and stood so suddenly his chair tipped backwards. "He is going to hear from me very soon!"

Harry had to grab his arm to prevent him from leaving. "Wait, Sirius. Dumbledore might want to control me, but the intention is good; he wants it for the greater good."

"Oh yes, of course. All this 'it's all for the greater good' bullshit!" Sirius exclaimed, but reluctantly obliged when Harry pushed him back down on his chair.

"You know, Mr. Potter, that might be the reason why he placed you at the Dursleys in the first place rather than in a wizarding foster home," Professor Reaburn said, and both Harry and Sirius looked quizzically at her. "Since he knew that they would not accept your magical abilities, they would push you down. For the greater good, it would be easier and in his mind better if he could have control over you. I guess the intention was to keep you dependent on someone, more specifically him when you finally got out. However, I believe the result was the opposite of what Dumbledore wanted. You're independent, Mr. Potter, and Dumbledore has done a mistake, even though, as you say, he might be this gentle grandfather figure most of the time."

"Well, he was never that to me," Harry said before adding, "ma'am" when he remembered to be polite.

"I realize that."

"What was the reason you left Britain anyway, Harry?" Sirius asked, trying to control his temper, but his hands were shaking anyway.

"Umm..." Harry glanced at Professor Reaburn. "Because they did... things to me."

"What things?" Sirius frowned in concern, and his body tensed, dreading the answer.

"As I said earlier, they hit me. And they locked me inside a broom cupboard for a night several times... teachers took points from Gryffindor when I did wrong in class, like breaking a vial or causing a pineapple to explode..."

Sirius was trembling in rage by now. "What else? What else did they do?"

"They hexed me. No one was punished for it unless Professor McGonagall was there."

Sirius was about leave when Professor Reaburn spoke: "Now, let's move away from this topic and move over to something different. Mr. Black, you probably know about Harry's career as a Quidditch player?" Professor Reaburn asked.

Sirius raised his brows and looked at Harry with wondrous expression. "No, ma'am. He told me and Remus that he would join the school on a Quidditch tournament at Hogwarts, but a career, no."

Harry blushed. He had forgotten to mention that to Sirius and Remus as he didn't want to brag in the first place, and had forgotten about it afterwards.

"Then I'll be pleased to inform you that your godson is the star player on the Australian National Team," Professor Reaburn chuckled at Sirius' gaping face.

"What! How the hill did you manage that, Harry?" he exclaimed.

"Um..." Harry hesitated. "Actually, it was Mr. Weber, the team coach who did it. He approached me after a match between Lionpaw and Whistlewind right before Christmas and asked if I wanted to play for the team. I thought I couldn't because I wasn't an Australian citizen at that point, but Mr. Weber, being who he was, convinced the Ministry that I should have one even if I had only lived here for two years. So with that done I accepted."

"They won the Commonwealth cup this winter," Proferssor Reaburn said proudly.

"Wow. It seems like we have a lot to talk about," Sirius said.

"Can we get Remus too? I suppose he would like to know as well."

"Sure.

_ANC ANC ANC_

_A/N: I was quite nervous about this chapter. Just before you start banging me with "Harry should not return to Britain", I want to say that it is necessary to get the story going. All the horcruxes are in Britain, and Voldemort can't enter Australia._


	16. Chapter 16

Then the day came where the carriage was pulled up in front of the castle with the winged horses harnessed and ready for the long trip to Scotland the same afternoon. Harry guessed, however, that there would be magical means to speed up the travel, so he didn't worry much about it when he climbed up the stairs.

Now the interior of the carriage had changed. An undetectable extension charm had definitely been put into good use, because the insides were many the size of the ordinary carriage, with dorms, common rooms, class rooms and so on.

"Wow," Julian muttered as he followed Harry inside. He, Dylan, Jonathan and Marcus had wanted to come, being only four of half the school who had wanted to come to watch the tournament.

"Agreed. It's at least five times the size of the Great Hall!" Dylan exclaimed as he pulled his trunk after Michael, a boy in their year who had been named prefect.

"Lionpaw area this way," he said importantly and climbed several staircases until they reached fifth floor. Then he stopped in front of a door with a small lion on. "Baby bats," he said, and the door slid open to reveal a common room almost at the size of that inside the castle and further stairs on either end. "Like in the castle; boys to the left, girls to the right. We'll take off in about fifteen minutes."

While the others were excited, Harry was understandably nervous. Madeleine sat down beside him in the couch as he was practicing the Avis spell wandlessly while waiting for the carriage to take off.

"Doing good, Harry," she said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks."

"You know; we're all going to be here for you, okay? Neither Tom nor Dumbledore can harm you; they'll have all of Australia on their necks. Not even the two of them combined can beat all of magical Australia," she ensured him.

"You forgot the Death Eaters."

"Oh. Yeah, but still. We have very talented aurors aboard, and we are all very competent in magic too," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "Now, will you show me a patronus non-verbally? If you can, I think you've got non-verbals completely."

Harry pulled out his wand did as she asked, not having managed such a difficult spell wandlessly yet, and just a second later a silver shining stag was prancing across the common room.

"Look at that! That's very good, Harry. Julian said that was your speciality."

"We don't know that yet. I haven't encountered any Dementors to know for certain," Harry argued.

"True, but it's still powerful. You are a very powerful wizard, Harry. Remember that," she said hand left his side.

Not much later the carriage started to move, and the familiar movements of take-off signalized the departure.

"Next stop, Hogwarts," Harry muttered with a sigh. The birds kept flying around him, cheeping all the time.

"Will you have those stupid birds stop, Harry? They're annoying the hell out of me," Julian muttered as he buried his nose inside his newest Potions book. Harry was sure he had at least ten different books about potion brewing, but at the start of every term he brought another one.

Harry stopped the magic and lay back on the couch, soon getting company from Anna, who sat down by his head. She didn't say anything, for which Harry was glad; she merely stroked his hand which was resting on his chest.

After a short time in the air the carriage was transported away kind of like when using a portkey, and Harry quickly stood to look out the windows. Below were the green forests and grass that carpeted the hills and fields of Scotland.

Realization dawned on Harry as he recognized the landscape below them, and nervousness filled him like a bucket in a well, making his stomach hurt.

"We're here," he muttered.

Julian put his book down and came over to his side. "So this is Scotland," he said as he looked through the window. Dylan said Scotland was similar to Tasmania, but I don't think so."

"Dylan hasn't even been in Scotland," Harry said, "He wouldn't know how it looked here."

"Probably not."

Soon others also approached the windows to look, and conversations filled the room. As the carriage started to descend a lake. Harry didn't need much time to recognize it.

"The Black Lake," he said. "Hogwarts is placed on the northern bank. There." He pointed at the castle that appeared on the opposite shore of the lake.

"Merlin, that's old!" Dylan exclaimed, wrinkling his nose.

That caused the others to laugh.

"Yeah, and full of magic, more so than Waratah castle," Harry explained. "Over there is the Forbidden Forest. Students are not allowed to go inside there – at least not without an adult. I had detention in there once."

"Why is it forbidden?"

"There are a lot of dangerous creatures that reside between those trees, not only unicorns and centaurs, but also werewolves and probably other creatures as well," Harry said.

The castle had not changed a bit, though it was decorated beyond what Harry remembered. A big ship was floating on the lake with a big sail holding a crest of some sort, while a pastel blue horse-pulled carriage was situated upon the banks, beside the castle. It was kind of like Waratah's carriage, but smaller.

Most sat down upon landing, knowing the feeling and the difficulty to stand upright, and as the carriage rolled to a stop, Professor Daniels appeared in the door.

"Now, if you'll all come with me," he said.

Everyone followed him obediently outside where they met the three other houses. Professor Reaburn was standing in front of the group of students, waiting for the last to arrive. She was dressed in white robes, matching the colour of her students' uniforms.

"Everyone here? Now, line up in pairs, please," she ordered.

Emma immediately grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him to her side. "We're going in with the team," she said and indicated towards Christopher and Oscar in front of them, Ivan and Anthony in front of them again, and Jasper behind with one of his house mates.

Harry merely nodded. He didn't trust his voice anymore as his nervousness was growing with every step they took towards the castle. His hands anxiously corrected his tie as the train of students climbed the Marble Staircase. The portraits on the walls greeted them and welcomed them merrily, and so far hadn't noticed Harry, for which he was happy.

Several of the aurors Professor Reaburn had talked about were flanking the rows of students, one on each side of Harry and Emma.

The doors to the Great Hall were closed, and Dumbledore's voice came from inside: "Please welcome the students of Waratah Academy of Magic and their headmistress Julia Reaburn."

As the doors opened he could hear the murmuring of the students, but tried to ignore it as best as he could. Areas along the tables were covered with red and blue rather than the black robes of the Hogwarts students, those being students of the other two schools, Harry figured. Closest to him was the Hufflepuff table, and even they were staring at him as he passed.

"Potter's here," a boy whispered to his mate. "There, beside that blonde girl."

"Arrogant jerk... he shouldn't be here," muttered another.

"Only wants attention, that's why he returns here, only to show off."

Professor Reaburn stopped in front of Dumbledore, close to the head table, and held out her hand to greet him. He shook her hand politely before she turned towards her students and waved, silently ordering them to find a place to sit down. The lines split up, and Harry soon got company by Marcus and Julian again, and managed to squeeze themselves between him and a Hufflepuff student Harry didn't recognize. The rest of the team ended up at Harry's other side, but all of them remained standing, watching Professor Reaburn as she moved to a chair between Dumbledore's and a woman with toad-like face, fuzzy pink cardigan and a bow on top of her head and sat down. Only then did they sit down on the benches.

"Now, when we have all gathered here; Durmstrang, Waratah, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts, I would like to say a few words. The pitch will be open for practices for the teams during daytime and from seven in the evening until curfew every day. Hogwarts house teams can use the pitch from after dinner until seven, and whenever the pitch is free. Matches will begin next Saturday with Waratah against Hogwarts. I expect you all to make our guests feel welcome here. I must warn you, though; with Sirius Black on the loose and Mr. Potter being his main target, the Ministry has deemed fit to order dementors around the school's grounds. As of tonight; let the feast begin," said Dumbledore and sat down, unknowingly raising a lot of anger amongst the Australians, but no one dared shout it out because they all realized the trouble they would meet amongst hundreds of people who didn't believe what they knew.

Food appeared on the tables, and people started eating. Soon the Great Hall was filled with hundreds of conversations.

"Against Hogwarts, huh, Harry? Who'd you think is playing?" asked Ivan.

"I don't know. Fred and George perhaps, if no better beaters have come up."

On his right side Julian had engaged a blonde Hufflepuff boy in a conversation concerning one of the big wizarding families in Australia.

"...and after he signed that deal – he was a boofhead, really, Connaughton, he did the mistake of not reading the fine print, and because he didn't he went bung," Julian told him, his eagerness causing him to speak even faster than he normally did, as if that wasn't fast enough.

The Hufflepuff boy stared at him with a confused expression. "I didn't catch a bit of what you just said," he commented dryly.

"Julian, slow down a bit," Harry reminded him. "No Brit can understand you if they're not used to your thick accent. And use other words."

"Other words?" Julian asked and looked at him quizzically.

"Boofhead?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and realization dawned upon Julian before he turned back to his conversation.

Marcus snorted. "No wonder he didn't understand," he muttered. "He _does_ speak a little too fast even for us sometimes."

Glancing up at the head table Harry noticed Snape watching him with critical eyes. He definitely didn't seem happy about Harry being there. In fact, neither of the teachers did, narrowing their eyes in irritation as soon as he looked at them until he reached Professor McGonagall. She instead offered him a weak smile.

Harry turned back to his meal, but just as he was going to put a piece of his shepherd's pie he felt a hard jab at his occlumency shields. The fork clattered against his plate as pain filled his head immediately because of him being unprepared for the attack, and he clutched his head. Reinforcing the shields he sighed with relief as the pain disappeared, but the jabbing kept going.

He looked around, hoping to find out who was attempting to access his mind. Whoever it was who wanted access was undoubtedly a strong wizard, and with a lot of experience, so upon that knowledge Harry's eyes stopped at Dumbledore. The jabs only grew stronger.

"Harry, you okay?" asked Marcus worriedly.

"He's testing my shields," Harry muttered as he concentrated on keeping Dumbledore outside.

It was then Professor Reaburn moved her gaze upon him and frowned. She was not the headmistress without reason, mind you. She quickly caught on to what was going on with her student and followed his eyes when he looked at Dumbledore.

"How dare you try to break one of my students, Dumbledore," she hissed lowly.

Harry sagged visibly in relief as the pressure dissipated and sent his headmistress a thankful look.

"I beg your pardon?" Dumbledore asked in a pretend-to-be innocent voice.

"I think you know very well what I'm talking about. Do I learn one more time that you or one of your staff is trying to access one of my students' mind, we'll leave right away, no question," she said firmly. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dumbledore merely said, his normally calm and masked face twisted in shock and worry.

After a while the Great Hall started emptying, as people retired to their dorms for the evening. The Beauxbatons students walked down to their blue carriage, and the Durmstrangs to their ship. Harry joined his friends back to the Waratah carriage, being one of the last to leave the Great Hall.

ANC ANC ANC

Next morning Harry woke to a female voice. His sleepy head immediately told him it was his mother, but as soon as he gained his sense he realized it was Tiarni.

"Harry, time to get up," she said in a soft voice.

Harry grumbled tiredly and pulled the covers over his head. "What're doing in here?"

"Gee, thanks. At least I didn't use the aquamenti like Dylan suggested," she said and pulled her fingers through his hair before standing to leave.

"Why aren't I woken like that?" Jonathan complained while casting a drying charm on his pyjamas. "Why does _he_ get all the girls' attention?"

"Because he's cute," Tiarni said with a smile.

"And I'm not?"

"I didn't say so. Harry doesn't take advantage of his cuteness. He's not trying to use it to get to us."

"Well, he doesn't have to. You get to him instead," Jonathan said before Harry threw a pillow at him with a wandless nonverbal banishing charm.

"Belt up," Harry murmured. "And Tiarni, please leave for a moment so I can get dressed."

"Sure."

As soon as Tiarni had left the room Harry slipped out of bed and started dressing.

"Are those the Weasleys, Harry?" asked Anthony as he gestured towards the group of redheads at the Gryffindor table as they entered the Great Hall. "That gang of blueys?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if two of them are beaters, we should go and say hello, wish them good luck, you know," Anthony said and grabbed Harry's shoulder with a big hand before steering him towards the Gryffindor table.

"Hey! Wait for me," Christopher exclaimed and jogged after them.

Harry sat down opposite the twins, who were grinning at him and greeted him, while the rest of the table scowled – at least those from fifth year and above. Ginny smiled kindly at him, and a sort boy with mousy brown hair lifted his camera from the wooden table. Harry felt almost blended by the sudden flash of light.

"You're Harry Potter! Ginny told me you were in Gryffindor too, but Ron says you're just an arrogant idiot, I don't believe him, though, I think that's rubbish! Smile, Harry!" he exclaimed eagerly as another flash filled Harry's vision.

"Err, do I know you?" Harry asked confusedly.

"I'm Colin Creevy. I watched Australia versus England last spring, you were amazing!" Colin said, strongly reminding Harry of an overeager Julian.

"Oh. Thank you, Mr. Creevy. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said and politely extended his arm.

Colin suddenly looked at him as if he was crazy, and the talk stopped. He grabbed Harry's hand and left immediately after.

Harry frowned in wonder before helping himself with fruit porridge. "So, guys, who's the team?" he asked and glanced at the twins.

Fred and George laughed. "Are you trying to get an advantage over the others, Harry?" Fred said.

"Have a guess," George added.

Harry studied them thoughtfully for a moment. "Well, I guess you two are beaters, and that Ginny might be Chaser since you mentioned her being pretty good in one of your letters," he said, "but other than that I don't stand a chance. Had it been last year Wood would probably be keeper, but he should have graduated by now if I'm correct."

"You are," said Fred.

"So, Harry, unfortunately for you, we, Gred and Forge are beaters and our dear little sister is chaser. The keeper is Ron, and Roger Davies and Zacharias Smith are the other chasers. You'll never guess who the seeker is."

Harry raised a brow quizzically. "No. Higgs have graduated? And Diggory – I remember playing him in my first year. I have no idea," he said and shoved a spoon of porridge in his mouth.

"Malfoy," hissed Ginny from their left.

The spoon clattered against the bowl. "Malfoy? You're serious?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Why are you surprised? He's not _that_ bad," George said.

"Only his dear father bought him in on the team after you left," Fred added.

"He's not in your class, though, but who can ever compete with a world class seeker?" George said.

"Perhaps I can," said a voice behind them, and Harry whirled around. His eyes connected with a couple of incredibly dark eyes. The boy, or rather man, was tall and sallow looking with a curved nose and dark hair. Harry quickly recognized him.

"Perhaps you can, Mr. Krum. I thought you had graduated, though," he said, stood and held out his hand politely.

"I had to redo a year. Fortunately for me I vas given the opportunity to play against you, Potter," he said and shook his hand lightly.

"I'm certainly looking forward to that, Mr. Krum," Harry smiled.

"Viktor, please."

"Then you call me Harry."

"Deal," Viktor finished before walking away.

As Harry sat down he found the whole table staring at him.

"For once I feel a bit sorry for Malfoy," Ginny said.

"Agreed. We just have to do a good job with the bludger, then, right Gred?" George grinned slyly at his brother.

"Right, Forge!"

"Who's at your team, Harry? Not that we know them of course," Ginny asked.

"Um..." Harry hesitated. "Anthony," he pointed at Anthony, who sat on his left side," is our keeper, and Christopher," his hand moved to the right, "is one of our beaters. The other one is Ivan, the blonde guy by the door."

"You mean him with the muscled arms?" Ginny asked in a teasing voice as she playfully nudged a frowning Fred in the side.

"Yeah, him. You don't want his bludger in your head, I warn you," Harry said.

"Have you tried it?" asked a small first year a little further up the table.

"Yes. We are in different houses, so during matches I'm normally the beaters' favourite target," Harry explained.

"That's why our beaters are so damned good," Anthony chuckled, "because Harry's impossible to hit, but as they keep trying they get better."

"And there is Emma, Oscar and Jasper at the end of the Hufflepuff table, all chasers."

Suddenly a flash of blue light from his left forced Harry put up a shielding charm, acting on mere instinct and a seeker's reflexes, using his hand as there wouldn't be time to pull out his wand. The spell hit the shield and was absorbed immediately. People close to them screamed in surprise and bent away until the light was absorbed completely. Only then Harry allowed himself to look for the source, and he found Ron with his wand still drawn and the whole table looking from Harry to Ron with expressions of disbelief.

"That was unnecessary, Weasley," Harry said coolly, but didn't do more out of it.

"Mr. Weasley!" The sharp call of Professor McGonagall silenced the Great Hall. The stern witch moved from her spot behind the head table and strode towards Ron. "Hexing another student, and a guest for that sake, is strictly forbidden! I will personally see you in detention at seven p.m. every Tuesday and Friday the rest of this term," she said firmly. "Is that clear?"

Ron's face turned almost as red as his hair, and he shrunk visibly in his seat. "Yes, professor."

Professor McGonagall turned towards Harry. "Are you okay, Mr. Potter?" she asked and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mr. Weasley should be glad you were able to protect yourself, or the consequences would be much worse," she said, throwing Ron a hard look before returning to the head table.

Anthony nudged Harry lightly. "How did you do a protego wandlessly_ and_ nonverbally already? I haven't even done a banishing charm yet!"

Harry merely looked at him and shrugged.


	17. Chapter 17

After breakfast Harry found Dylan and Jonathan and joined them for defence class. As the students now knew most spells and could do them with a wand they were now practicing on doing it without a wand, and that took far more time than to learn them with wands. Therefore most of B.A.T and M.A.N.T.A classes in defence, charms and transfiguration were used for this. Harry had finally understood what Annie had meant when she said the difficulty increased, but the mountains of work decreased. There was almost no theory since the processes of doing one charm versus another were about similar, but on the other hand the spells needed to be practiced outside classes as well.

When the class was dismissed Harry was in good mood. He had not only done a locomotor spell wandlessly, but also incendio, which he had been struggling with for a week.

"What about practicing the shield charm now?" Dylan suggested as they climbed out of the carriage.

"Yeah. Not that Harry needs any practice, though, as he did it just this breakfast," Julian muttered and pushed Harry playfully.

"I have only done it once," Harry argued. "I have to be sure I can do it every time."

They walked across the fallen leaves of the birches growing along the Black Lake until they found a somewhat clear spot to practice.

"Okay. Let's try to erect a shield first, and test it later on," Marcus said.

Harry tried to do as he had at breakfast, but the blue shield didn't appear like at breakfast. Several times he tried, but not until the tenth time was he able to conjure the shield. Then it took four more tries before he did it again, but after that he managed more than seven in a row before failing one single time and then kept going until Julian suggested they would start testing. The boys first teamed up against Harry, firing disarming spells, stunning spells and knockback jinxes at different strengths. Harry had to dodge a red light once, but other than that he held his ground well

After a while they switched, with Dylan being the one to conjure the shield. He was stunned a few times in the beginning, though soon he got the hang of it. Jonathan was just preparing as Harry spotted Neville approaching them from the castle carrying a greyish cactus-like plant with boils instead of spines.

"Hey, Neville. How are you?" Harry asked.

"Hi. I'm good. I think," Neville replied. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing the shield charm," Harry explained before Jonathan gave his signal.

The boys started firing spells wandlessly at him, and sometimes Harry even tried nonverbal together with a wandless, but that only succeeded halfway. Neville sat down on the ground at a safe distance and watched until they were done.

"Is that a Mimbulus Mimbletonia?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the plant Neville was holding.

"Yes," Neville said, slightly surprised. "It's very rare, how did you know?"

"We have a few at Waratah," Harry explained.

"Harry thinks they're horrible," Dylan sniggered.

Harry threw him a dirty look. "If you were covered in stinksap every single time we had to work with them you would think so too. I do prefer Roselips, thank you. At least they are possible to work with."

"Shut up. Just because yours grew three more flowers," Dylan muttered.

"Roselips? You really have Roselips?" Neville asked incredulously and sat upright.

"Of course. They're native to Australia after all," Harry said. "Fascinating flowers, really, but quite a handful."

Neville nodded in understanding. "I've read about them. I'd like one myself, but it's too much work when I'm at school. Gran says we can build a greenhouse at home if I pass five O. including Herbology."

"What are O. ?" Jonathan asked curiously as he played with a brown birch leaf.

"Britain's equivalent of our S.W.I. , but they have it in fifth year," Harry quickly explained.

Jonathan gaped as he obviously thought something strange. "But then they would have only one year until their B. !"

Harry laughed. "No, Jonathan. They don't have B. here, but N.E. in seventh year. And before you ask, British students graduate in seventh year."

"So N.E. are their M.A.N. ?" Jonathan asked, sounding slightly confused.

"Yes. Neville is doing his O. in June," Harry told him.

"Yeah, but I'm worried I won't pass. Especially Defence Against the Dark Arts," Neville said and blushed slightly in both shyness and embarrassment.

"Oh, but can't you teach him, Harry? You helped all of us learning almost every defence spell we know," Julian said.

"Uh, well. I can give it a shot. Who's your defence teacher by the way, Neville?" Harry asked.

Neville's expression darkened visibly. "Dolores Umbridge, ministry employee. She only teaches us theories, not practical wandwork."

"Oh, that's a pity when Voldemort has returned," Dylan muttered.

"Shut ya gob, Dylan," Harry told him sharply, but Neville had already heard it.

"You-Know-Who is back?" he asked with horror, his eyes wide open.

"Yes. You probably noticed all the aurors arriving with us yesterday?" Harry said, and Neville nodded dumbly.

"They came because of him. We don't know what he's planning on next. Now, enough of that Hogwarts is safe as long as Dumbledore is here. Let's go on to defence."

With that Harry started with a basic disarming spell and had Neville try it on him. After half an hour to no avail they were forced to return to the castle to arrive in time for lunch.

"We can try again later, okay? Don't be discouraged if you can't do it in the beginning. You will eventually," Harry assured him as they entered the castle.

"Okay. Thanks, Harry."

"Hey, no problem. I don't want my friends to die because they can't protect themselves," he said, smiling comfortingly.

"Why doesn't anyone know that You-Know-Who is back?" Neville wondered while tailing Harry up the Marble Staircase to the Great Hall.

"Probably because the Ministry and Fudge are cowards. That's what I think, at least. The Telegraph also does, but is kinder upon its words of choice," Harry told him.

"The Telegraph? Is that your newspaper?"

"Yep. The Jungle Telegraph, or just the Telegraph for short."

"Oh. I guess that's why Umbridge is here," Neville muttered.

Double lessons of Transfiguration, and then Potions followed lunch, and those they were working on now were not of the easiest. Only a tiny mistake could end in a catastrophe.

"I _have_ to remember to use one inch more of each unicorn hair," Jonathan said indignantly as they exited the carriage to go to dinner.

"Five versus six inches doesn't matter, but you used six instead of seven. After having had Arithmancy for all these years you should know that seven is special," Harry commented dryly.

"Seven, seven seven. Stupid seven. Couldn't it be the _Squib and the six wands_ or eight wands? Why does it always have to be seven?" Jonathan complained.

"Because then the squib wouldn't have a wand to give to the poor witch in the end," Marcus reasoned. "Fairytales always have seven. Don't bother to dig into it, Julian. You can't change the laws of magic anyway."

They had just entered the Great Hall when Harry bumped into a person with pale blonde hair. Not before they pulled apart Harry recognized who it was.

"Watch where you are going!" Malfoy whined before he realized who he was speaking to.

He had to tilt his head far backwards to meet Harry's gaze as he was about a foot shorter, and then his eyes moved down and up one more time before he received an expression of shock for only a short moment. It was however quickly replaced by a surprisingly bad attempt of a sneer to be Malfoy. Even as an eleven-year-old Malfoy did better than now, Harry thought.

"Potter," he said.

"Yes, that's me. Did you want something?" Harry inquired.

"Yeah. Looking forward to beat you on Saturday," Malfoy said, obviously trying to sound confident as his eyes trailed Harry's torso with a small glint of worry.

"Well, good luck, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said and walked off towards the Gryffindor table, leaving behind an utterly confused Malfoy.

As he sat down by the table both the twins and Neville were looking at him incredulously.

"What the hell happened? He didn't attack you, and you didn't attack him?" Fred asked.

"Why would I attack him? He was only staring at me. For what I have no idea. Did you see how small he was?" Harry wondered and reached for a bowl of fish soup.

"Small? No, it's you who are tall, Harry. As we said that day after the match against England, you're not the small, scrawny Harry we remember from your first year here," George said.

"I'd guess you were as tall as Ron, but you might have a bit more muscles," Fred pointed out.

"That's no surprise seeing how Mr. Weber has us take pull-ups in mid air," Harry said nonchalantly. "The height I haven't really considered much, but now that you mention it..."

"I'd guess you were close to six feet, but it's kind of difficult when you're sitting," George said.

_ANC ANC ANC_

That afternoon Ivan pulled him along with the rest of the team to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Beauxbatons team practicing. They didn't see much of the abilities of the players now, though; they would have to wait for the matches. The next day, however, the Gryffindor team had the pitch right after dinner, and Harry got to see the twins in action and Ginny trying her shots against Ron. The other two chasers were Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, both of whom Harry recognized from his year on the team. The seeker, however, was a third year boy whose name escaped Harry's attention.

When they were done, the Waratah team used a few hours to practice, Harry using the balls he had gotten from Mr. Weber. After short time people started to appear in the stands, and Harry slowed a bit, not wanting to be called a show-off, though he knew it was inevitable.

Between school and practices Harry spent time training with Neville, and now Fred and George after Neville had told them about his training with Harry.

After dinner Thursday Harry had joined Neville in the library helping him with his Potions homework.

"How can I possibly know that leaves from an Alihotsy should not be used in a Depression Draught? I mean, I'm not Hermione," Neville sighed while leaning over his Potions book.

"Neville, as far as I've understood you're quite talented with plants," Harry said and sat down on the chair beside him. "Why don't you try to use the knowledge you have about plants in potions? After all, a lot of ingredients are plants. Tell me, what do you know about an Alihotsy?"

Neville thought silently for a few seconds. "It induces hysteria and uncontrollable laughter."

"So how could it be relevant if you are to brew a potion which is supposed to make you depressed?" Harry challenged.

Realization seemed to dawn upon Neville. "Oh Merlin, that's silly isn't it? Thanks, Harry," he said and grabbed his quill again. "But – oh! I just realized you have to cut aconite lengthwise to take full advantage of its juice!"

"Yes, very clever," Harry agreed with a smile.

"But then... why doesn't the book say to stir counter clockwise rather than clockwise when brewing a silencing potion? The effects of Armando bile would undoubtedly be more successful!" Neville said and glanced at Harry.

Harry just laughed. "I think you always knew what to do if you got peace from Snape to think about it. See, Armando bile isn't even a plant, and you showed you had the knowledge anyway. You just have to forget Snape, and you'll do much better."

"As if forgetting Snape is easy when he constantly tell you how dreadful your potions are," Neville muttered darkly.

"I know, I had him myself. Just give it a go in class tomorrow, okay? I have faith in you."

"Thanks."

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry was well aware of the audience during practice that evening, but he did his best to ignore it. Several times when he zoomed down after the run-away artificial Snitch he spotted the Hogwarts team – not that that was a surprise, but Hermione being in the stands during a practice was. It was even a greater surprise when he found her waiting outside the locker rooms when Harry and Oscar exited after having showered.

"Harry!" she called.

Harry froze for a moment as he recognized her voice, and turned towards her. "Miss Granger, may I help you?" he asked, not quite managing to cover the icy tone.

"I want to know why you left. Why did you just leave your friends like that without any warning?" she demanded.

"The smartest witch in her year could not figure that out, even though it was rather obvious?" Harry challenged.

"What? Harry, what are you talking about?" she asked and stepped closer to him and looked up at him with a confused look.

"I am talking about those times I were locked inside broom cupboards, hexed and humiliated for almost my entire first year. Think about it, Miss Granger. What would you have done if you were the one who constantly were the one called arrogant, selfish, useless and stupid?" Harry noticed his hands trembling in anger, but tried to ignore it and keep the pressed control he had.

"I didn't – "

"Didn't what? Call me useless because I never understood the magical difference between porcupine quills and dittany? Because I couldn't do a mouse to snuffbox transfiguration after fifth attempt?" Harry was vaguely aware of Oscar's supportive hand on his shoulder. "What have I ever done you, Miss Granger? What have I done to make you call me such things? Did I offend you in any way? Please answer me that."

"Harry, I..." Hermione looked like she was on the verge of crying.

Harry glared at her. "I have better things to do than to argue with you, Miss Granger. Good night," he finished and strode off with a tense and bothered walk.

Oscar hurried after him. "Don't let her bother you, Harry. You're one of us now. She belongs to your past."

"Thanks," Harry muttered. "I just can't believe she... I thought she of all had more sense. Ron I could understand, but Hermione..."

"You know what; we'll show them on Saturday, okay?"

"Yeah."

_ANC ANC ANC_

The next morning started with Magical Creatures, and now, with a herd of Centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, Professor Mooney had made a deal with Hagrid to take them to the herd. "You see, Mr. Hagrid, that there are no Centaurs in Australia, so we have only been able to work on the theories, and I believe it would do the students well to meet them in person to prevent any prejudice. They are after all intelligent creatures," Professor Mooney said.

"I agree with you there, professor," Hagrid said happily as they walked into the forest. "I have to warn ye, though; they're in uproar since the Ministry keeps reducin' their land."

All the students were taken inside the forest for the opportunity, and while some were nervous, others were looking forward to it.

"Centaurs are fascinating creatures, really," Jonathan said. "I mean, how they work with the stars and the planets, and how they are as creatures; like how they move and..." He stopped mid-sentence as the faint outlines of centaurs appeared between the trees.

"Magorian! How are ye doin'?" Hagrid called.

One of the centaurs stepped forward. As he approached Harry noticed his coat having a chestnut colour. "Why have you brought humans to us, Hagrid? You know very well what we think about humans."

"Huh? Oh, Righ'! They're students of Waratah Academy of Magic in Australia and are visiting Hogwarts this year, so professor Mooney here wanted them to meet you guys to get rid of prejudices and tha' kin' o' stuff. There aren't no centaurs in Australia, you see," Hagrid explained.

Magorian started pacing in front of the students, studying them with a critical eye as the rest of the herd slowly approached. "What do you want to know?"

Several hands shot into the air, and Magorian approached one of the girls in the front row.

"Yes?"

"Our book about magical creatures say you are very intelligent and that you study the stars and planets, sir, but what is your opinion of human astrology and divination?" she asked.

"Those kinds of fables are nothing to go by. Fakery, all of it. Fantasy. Humans are wrong in every way of the art of reading the heaven," Magorian said indignantly before looking at another girl who had her arm raised.

"I hope I'm not being rude, sir, but I was wondering if male and female centaurs had different roles in a herd?" she asked carefully, wincing under his harsh gaze.

As the students kept asking questions in a polite manner, aware of their distrust of humans, Magorian reduced his aggressiveness towards them slightly. The other herd members had taken to circle the visitors as if inspecting them or holding them in place like a sheepdog would work a pack of sheep.

Magorian finally reached Harry. "What's your question?"

"The British Ministry of Magic has a Centaur Liaison office, as I'm sure you know of, sir, but I was wondering, if you protest against the Ministry of reducing your land, why don't you question them, sir?" Harry asked.

Magorian bent down and inhaled, obviously smelling him. "You're that Potter boy, aren't you?" His eyes dug into Harry's and Harry desperately wanted to break the contact, but fount that he couldn't.

"Yes, sir."

"The stars speak highly of you, youngling. They tell of great power. You will accomplish great things in the future. One difficult year lies ahead of you," Magorian said calmly before he turned and broke into a canter, his herd quickly following, causing the ground to tremble.

"Wh-what was that?" Jonathan asked from Harry's left.

"I have no idea," Harry replied before looking at Professor Mooney. "Excuse me, Professor. What did he mean, sir?"

Professor Mooney frowned. "I have as much clue as you, Mr. Potter, but I don't think it would be wise to let it bother you too much," he said. "Thank you, Mr. Hagrid, for taking us here. I don't suppose you can take us out as well?"

"Of course, professor," Hagrid replied cheerily. "How're ya doin', Harry? All well in Australia? Lookin' forward to the match tomorrow?"

"Sure. Hopefully we can beat them, but I have no idea of how good any of them are," Harry admitted.

"I won't be the one to tell you. I only say be careful, and tha' Malfoy's prob'ly wettin' 'is pants in fear for your dives, Harry."

Harry snorted. "It's not that bad."

"Only bad enough to crash Parkin and Pavlou among others? Oh, did I mention King? The world's fourth best seeker, only beaten by Krum, you and that irish... Link!" Dylan exclaimed.

"Lynch," Harry corrected.

"Yeah! That's what I said!"

"No, you said Link."

_ANC ANC ANC_

Harry found Neville grinning like a mad when they met for lunch later that day.

"You know what, Harry? My cauldron didn't explode, but best of all, the potion had the right colour and the right thickness!" he told Harry eagerly.

"That's great, Neville. I knew you could do it," Harry replied with a smile.

"Snape accused me of cheating, but I just ignored it, like you said. His bark is worse than his bite, really."

"You should have seen it; the potion was close to perfect," said a familiar voice, and Hermione managed to push in between Harry and Marcus. "It's just that Professor Snape dislikes Gryffindors." She reached out to help herself with mango chicken soup, ignorant about the stares she got from the Australians.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger, what is the purpose of this?" Harry asked, trying to be polite.

"Purpose of what, Harry? And you know you can call me Hermione, right?" she said.

"You're not Hermione to me anymore, Miss Granger, and I believe you have no right to come here and behave like nothing had happened, like we were the best of friends," he replied firmly.

Hermione paused and looked at him. "Now, Harry, you don't have to be angry with me –"

"I explained to you yesterday a very good reason for me to be angry with you, and I give you one last warning; please sit down somewhere else than between me and my friends, or I'll force you," Harry warned, his hand clutching his fork unnecessarily hard.

Hermione huffed and grabbed her bowl of soup before walking further up the table to sit down.

Harry scowled in annoyance and dug his fork into the heap of ratatouille gathered on his plate just as the twins strolled along the Gryffindor table.

"Hello, Harry," they chorused.

"Thought we saw your happy smiling face here," Fred teased and dumped down beside Neville.

"And _what_ a smile that is!" George added.

"Belt up," Harry muttered grumpily. "No need to rub it in."

"Hermione was here," Neville filled in, quickly wiping the grins off the twins' faces.

"What did she say?" George asked.

"She pretended that everything was okay, that I had never left, and that we were best friends," Harry told them.

"Oh."

"At least she didn't correct you for leaving _"because we need you in Britain, and you are the hero of the people_" and such," Fred said in a girly voice.

Harry merely snorted and returned to his food. He didn't want to waste time as the team would meet afterwards to plan a tactic for the game.

"Guys, I have to go. Got meeting with the team," he quickly explained and strode down between the tables, not noticing the redhead with freckles and blue eyes before they met at the door.

Ron's gaze connected with his when they reached the door. In contrast to in first year, where Harry was forced to tilt his head backwards to look at him, he was now about as tall as Ron, give or take an inch.

"Good luck with the match, Potter," he spat.

"Likewise, Weasley."

No one could have predicted what happened next. Harry felt it was like watching a movie in slow motion as he saw the fist moving towards him. Acting on automatic he raised his hand and grabbed Ron's wrist when only a couple of inches from his face.

Ron's eyes widened in surprise, while Harry's narrowed in anger.

"Trying to put me out from the match, Weasley? You do that one more time, and the rest of Waratah will come after you," Harry warned, ignoring the stares from the people in the Great Hall.

Ron tried to yank his arm back, but Harry held for the first two attempts only to make his statement clear before he let go and left him there, gaping like a fish on dry land. It didn't take long, however, before Christopher appeared in front of him with a murderous look and grabbed the front of his robes. Ron was even lifted up an inch or so.

"You try that one more time, and I'll smash that pretty little face of you tomorrow," he threatened, his voice vibrating with anger.

Had he not been so angry Christopher would have laughed at the frightened face of the redhead. Giving him a last glare he hurried after Harry.


	18. Chapter 18

Next morning Harry felt nervous. He knew however that the others at the team would be even more nervous than him because he already had experience on an even higher level. Emma was pale when he met her in the Great Hall for breakfast. Jasper looked like he was going to be sick, and Ivan barely ate anything.

"Cheer up, guys. No worries," Anthony said. "Just look at Malfoy. And _he_ has reason to worry."

Most of those who had heard him turned to look, and Harry had to fight the urge to laugh. Malfoy looked like he was having a nervous breakdown, and every other minute he glanced at Harry. Ron also seemed abnormally pale. Fred and George had told him that this would be his first season, and he handled the nerves worse than his sister, who on the other hand looked calm.

After breakfast they left for the carriage to get their bags and brooms before heading down to the pitch and the locker rooms where they quickly changed into Quidditch robes. Like on the national team the robes were green, but rather than the golden kangaroo on the chest and back there was the school's crest in gold, and the player's name above.

"Now, we don't know how those Brits will be playing, but we are going to show them what Aussies can do, that they are no better than us even if they think so. Watch out for the beaters. That's the only idea we have," Harry said. "They had to regroup their chasers and beaters because they're all from different houses which do not cooperate at the same level as ours. Jasper, Oscar, Emma; find the weak points in their defence and take advantage of them. Anthony; just do like you did on Thursday. That was great."

"What about us?" asked Ivan.

"You two stop every bludger especially aimed for Anthony. We need him. Let's play."

With Harry in tow the team walked out to the tunnel where the Hogwarts team was already waiting for the closed doors to open.

A voice Harry didn't recognize called out over the pitch, probably with a sonorus: "Welcome to the first match of the School Quidditch tournament; Hogwarts versus Waratah! Please welcome the Hogwarts team; Keeper Ron Weasley! Beaters Fred and George Weasley! Chasers Zacharias Smith, Roger Davies and Ginny Weasley, and lastly, seeker Draco Malfoy!"

The doors flew open, and the Hogwarts team took off and zoomed into the pitch while the speaker kept talking through the deafening applause and cries from the audience.

"This is a strong team with the best players on Hogwarts school. Fred and George Weasley make a dangerous beater duo the Aussies have to watch out for. Captain and Chaser Roger Davies is their top scorer, did thirty-five goals in one match last season. Ginny and Ron Weasley are newcomers, new members this year, but due to graduated players all over there were no one more experienced, so the decision was taken after tryouts in early September. Draco Malfoy has been the Slytherin seeker for three years, going on the fourth now, and was the main reason Slytherin won the Quidditch House Cup last season."

The players circled the pitch until the speaker paused, and then positioned themselves in a line in the middle of the pitch.

"Give a warm welcome to the Waratah team!" the speaker exclaimed, and Harry kicked off.

From the dark tunnel the seven green players appeared and tailed each other along the stands.

"Keeper Anthony Williams! Beaters Ivan Preston and Christopher Chen! Chasers Emma Catlin, Oscar Wild and Jasper Turnbull, and lastly, seeker Harry Potter!" The cheering was not nearly as extreme this time, but they had expected as much. They could, however, hear Dylan's lion roar somewhere in the stands.

"Anthony Williams has played keeper for the Starling House Team for three years, and last season he only let in ten goals in four matches! Ivan Preston and Christopher Chen are just as dangerous as the Weasley twins with Preston's deadly accuracy and Chen's power. Just look at those arms! The Chaser trio would certainly have given the Whistlewind House the House Cup last season had it not been for Lionpaw and Australia's star seeker, Captain Harry James Potter! Originally British, but moved to Australia – rumours has it that the reasons are because of bullying while studying at Hogwarts, and if that's the case it is a bitter truth for England to lose such a talented seeker to another country. He has yet to lose a snitch, even on international level, so I daresay Malfoy is going to have a tough time against him!"

The team positioned themselves while Harry and Roger landed beside the chest with the balls and a French man who was the referee for the match. Harry politely shook hands with both of them before he was up again, waiting for the balls to be released.

Malfoy had gotten his sneer back in place, and was glaring at Harry while they waited. The Snitch was released, and it zoomed off and disappeared immediately. The bludgers were next and the moment after the Quaffle was in the air.

Ignoring the Chasers' battle below Harry started circling the pitch. Malfoy tailed him most of the times but did his outskirts on his own a few times.

Harry barely heard the speaker announcing a forty twenty lead to Waratah because he was sure he had seen a glint of gold by the Hogwarts goalposts, so he set off towards the three hoops and Ron. He had to dodge for Jasper as he made his way towards Ron with the Quaffle in his arms and Emma on his left, and he had crossed half the pitch when Malfoy did a shortcut and ended up on his side.

The blonde boy deliberately crashed into his side, but Harry didn't budge much. He intended to stay focused on the Snitch. The ball flew away when they passed off, and now Harry really put on speed. He was determined to beat Malfoy at it. When the ball dived Harry followed, and Malfoy only a few feet in the beginning but after a few seconds the gap had increased much.

Harry stretched out his and to grab the snitch as he closed in on the ground. Just then a bludger appeared in the corner of his eye, and he was forced to roll three hundred and sixty degrees on his broom before pulling out of the dive to avoid a crash. When he finally looked for the snitch again it was gone. Malfoy was still following him, but seemed to lose interest when he figured the snitch had slipped away.

However, Harry didn't linger more than a few seconds before he shot off around the pitch again. Malfoy caught up with him, just like last time, but would have lost ground quickly had Harry flown in top speed. Now, however, he didn't, only slightly faster than when Malfoy could follow him. Right in front of the stand with teachers and guests he dived. Straight down along the wall of the stand.

"Potter is going dangerously fast now; has he seen the snitch, or is it just a trick? He has about three feet on Malfoy, who seems very intent on beating Potter at the snitch. Potter pulls out in the last minute! Malfoy is down! Amazing Wronski Feint from Harry Potter there! To think we would see one of those here at Hogwarts!" Then the speaker turned back to the Chasers, commenting a tackle from Smith which resulted in ten points for Hogwarts.

Christopher then sent a bludger towards Ron just as Oscar was taking the Quaffle in return. This proved too much for Ron, who had to dodge the bludger, and at the same time gave an easy score to Waratah.

"That's for trying to hit Harry!" Christopher shouted to him before taking a pass from Ivan and sending it towards Roger. He missed.

Upon the return towards Anthony Ginny had the Quaffle, and she did well on dodging Emma, who came in the opposite direction. Jasper caught up with her, but not fast enough, so she ended up alone with Anthony.

"Ginny Weasley scores, reducing to seventy to sixty in favour of the Aussies, but the game is not over before the snitch is caught," the speaker said.

Malfoy was up in short time, though appearing quite dizzy in the beginning, and bleeding from a scrape on his cheek. Harry was forced to admit one thing; that Malfoy was a quick learner. Next time Harry did a Wronski Feint Malfoy pulled out before it was too late, even if Harry went even lower.

As Zacharias evened the score Harry spotted the snitch, and just ten seconds later the Golden Snitch was safely held within Harry's right hand.

The white section of the stage was cheering loudly, and the Lionpaw lion was almost drowned in the noise.

"Potter has caught the snitch! Waratah has won against Hogwarts, two hundred and thirty to eighty!" the speaker announced as Harry sank down towards the ground. He was immediately run over Anthony, and soon ended up on the bottom of a heap of players.

"Yes, Harry! You did it! I knew you would beat that blondie!" Christopher exclaimed and ruffled his hair.

"They had no chance! You're unbeatable!" Ivan cried into his ear.

"I'm not unbeatable!" Harry said, somewhat restrained because of the weight pressing down on him. He solved it with simple wandless levitating charm as he was unable to reach his wand at the moment.

Emma screamed when she was suddenly lifted into the air. "Harry! Put me down!"

Harry merely laughed and got up before slowly lowering them again.

"Party afterwards!" Jasper said loudly just before the Hogwarts team approached.

To Harry's surprise Malfoy approached him, still with a bloody cheek. "Good match, Potter," he said.

"Thanks. Likewise, Mr. Malfoy," Harry replied before pushing magic towards the blonde's scrape. It healed quickly and the blood disappeared.

Malfoy obviously felt the magic working because his hand moved up to finger his cheek. "What did you do?" He asked suspiciously.

"Saved Madam Pomfrey a little work," Harry replied.

Malfoy seemed insecure for a moment before he muttered something that sounded like a barely audible "Thanks".

Harry merely nodded before Fred and George claimed his attention to shake his hands, both at the same time.

"Sweet dive, Harry!" Fred said.

"Tried to hit you numerous times.

"Was impossible, though."

"How D'Arcy managed to do that in that match in Canada is beyond me," George said, sounding astonished.

Harry smiled. "Good game, guys. You hit Anthony, though."

The twins shrugged and stalked off towards the locker rooms with a "See ya, Harry."

_ANC ANC ANC_

Oscar had made Harry agree to help him on his Muggle Studies essay on muggle money on the way out of the locker rooms. A little further away from the entrance Dumbledore and a man Harry recognized as Minister Fudge were talking with a slightly upset Professor Reaburn, seemingly very engorged in their subject as Harry and Oscar passed.

"...and Jennifer said there was thirteen cent on a dollar, but is it really? I thought it was less?" Oscar asked and glanced at Harry.

"No, it's more. One hundred – "

"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore's voice interrupted him, and the old man approached him with a smile Harry definitely didn't like.

"Yes, sir?" Harry asked, struggling to keep his distaste for the wizard in check.

"May we have a word with you? In my office?" Dumbledore asked, his ever-present twinkle in his eye being even brighter than usual.

"If you don't mind me asking, sir; what for?"

"I will tell you once we get there," Dumbledore said.

Harry pulled out his stubborn side. "I have to disappoint you, sir. I do not wish to enter any office of yours unless you tell me the reason for me doing so first," Harry said, trying to be polite even if his emotions were fighting against it.

Dumbledore sighed in resignation. "We, the minister and I, wish for you to return to Hogwarts. We believe it would be the best for you. After all, your parents studied there and – "

"I'm sorry, sir. Even if my parents went to Hogwarts it would not be a good reason for me to return back to Hogwarts. Did it ever occur to you, sir, that the speaker during the match was right about my reason for leaving? Why would I want to return to a school where all I meet are people who hex me or accuse me of being arrogant?" Harry felt his body vibrating in anger, and Professor Reaburn placed a hand on his shoulder as support. "At Waratah I'm accepted for being Harry. Not once has anyone called me useless or arrogant. I know you knew what your students did to me, headmaster, but why didn't you do anything if you wanted me to stay there?" Harry turned towards Minister Fudge. "I advise you to remove the dementors and give Sirius Black a trial. The Australian Ministry gave him one which, unfortunately, will have no use here with you not wanting to look outside your own borders, and he was cleared of all charges after being tested under the influence of Veritaserum. And pick up your courage, sirs, and announce Voldemort's return," Harry said and stomped off, Oscar and Professor Reaburn tailing him.

Harry felt like he could burst in rage, and almost forgot the two joining him. But then he realized something, so he stopped and looked at Headmistress Reaburn.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you and the school, ma'am," he said honestly.

"Oh dear, no! You didn't, Mr. Potter. I'm glad you told them. I wanted to do it myself, but I was worried you didn't want them to know. I must say I'm proud of you, Mr. Potter."

Harry sighed, relieved. "Thank you, ma'am. I don't want to ruin the reputation of our school because I was unable to control my anger."

Oscar interrupted. "Harry, I'd say that you showed very good control of your emotions back there, especially considering what Dumbledore has put you through."

"Thanks," Harry muttered.

_ANC ANC ANC_

A few days later Harry sat by the Gryffindor table eating his breakfast as the owls arrived. Not really expecting Hedwig already since he had sent her with a letter to Remus and Sirius, Harry focused on his breakfast. At least until George unfolded the Daily Prophet.

THE MINISTRY GIVES MASS-MURDERER SIRIUS BLACK A TRIAL

"Yes! He actually listened to me!" Harry exclaimed. "The only thing missing now is Voldemort's return, but I doubt Fudge will have the courage for that."

"True," Fred said. "By the way, Harry, do you know how You-Know-Who was able to return? I mean, why wasn't he killed that Halloween night?"

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "I'm not sure. Even if the Killing Curse rebounding on him didn't kill him, then the blast should have. But I intend to figure it out! See you later, guys," he said and left the table suddenly.

The twins looked confusedly at Julian and Marcus, who had been sitting beside him.

"Don't mind him," Julian said. "When he gets an idea he has to look it up."

"Sounds like our dear Granger over there," George muttered.

"Oh! No, not like that. Harry told us about her. He's not that extreme. I think..."

"But don't you have classes?"

Marcus looked at him over his glass of pumpkin juice. "Of course we do. But right now we're working on wandless spells, and since Harry just waves his hand and there you have a perfect transfiguration in a blink of an eye, he was allowed to skip a few classes. But only transfiguration, charms and defence."

"Really? No incantation or nothing?" Fred raised his brows.

"Not normally. He's found a way to alter the magic in a way that doesn't need any incantation. Don't ask me how, because I have no idea. Neither does our Transfigurations professor."


	19. Chapter 19

_Cub,_

_Sirius is cleared of all charges. We wanted you to be the first to know. Now the Ministry is going on a Wormtail-hunt._

_Remus._

Days passed, and Harry found nothing about what Voldemort could have done in order to survive. Of course, Harry remembered seeing him in the back of Quirrel's head in his first year, and he was sure there were dark magic involved. The Prophet announced the results of Sirius' trial, but never mentioned what made the Ministry change their minds about giving him a trial.

_Harry was moving down a corridor in a foreign building. He was certainly not walking. No, ne was kind of sliding across the floor._

Kill..._ he hissed. _Kill the blood-traitor..._ He could feel himself speaking, but he had no control of it, as if someone was taking control of him. _Nagini will obey her Master... Nagini will kill the blood-traitor...

_With a start he realized he was a snake. His gaze wandered along the walls, past a row of fireplaces in a big atrium, and then things turned dizzy. The next thing he saw was a sign marked with Department of Mysteries. He moved further down several more corridors and in a door. The new room was enormous with rows upon rows with glass balls all the way up to the ceiling which was at least as high as a church. There was a person there, in front of him. Harry couldn't see him, but he certainly felt the vibrations of the person's steps. Before Harry could stop himself from it he attacked the person, and an invisibility cloak slipped off, revealing a man Harry quickly recognized. Even how much he tried to fight it he couldn't stop himself from biting the person's chest and injecting venom into the wound._

Waking with a yelp and a racing hart Harry sat up in his bed and looked around. Julian was looking at him with a worried look.

"You okay, Harry?" he asked.

"Mr. Wealey... He's been bit by a snake! Where is the Department of Mysteries?" Harry asked desperately as he hurriedly pulled on clothes. He had to act, he had to do something. This was certainly not a dream – he'd had enough visions to tell when there was one or not.

Julian quickly sat up. "I'd guess the Ministry since it's the Department of... something," he said. "Where are you going?"

"The Ministry. I've got to find him. The snake may be venomous – what do I know? I can't let him die if I can help it!" Harry exclaimed, waking his other dorm mates as well.

"Whuzzgoinon?" Dylan muttered.

"I don't have time. Have to go now," Harry said exasperated, grabbed his wand and darted from the room before anyone could stop him from it.

His heart was still racing. Mr. Weasley might be Ron's father, but he was also Fred and George's. Besides, Mr. Weasley had never done him anything wrong, and Harry refused to let anyone innocent die.

Panic threatened to fill him at the thought of that he might be too late. What if Mr. Weasley already was dead? No, he didn't even want to think about that. He sped up even more until he reached Professor Daniels' office. He didn't bother to knock, merely opened the door, glad that the office was separated from the private quarters.

Luckily a jar of floo powder was placed beside the fireplace, and he threw something in it, causing green flames to appear.

"British Ministry of Magic!" he cried, and with a _woosh_ he was whisked away.

The travel came to a sudden stop, and Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in a big atrium. Looking around he recognized it from his vision with a horrible statue where magical creatures were being stepped on by a witch and a wizard. But how in Merlin's name would he get from here to the Department of Mysteries?

His eyes looked for a sign somewhere, like it was in the Australian Ministry, where he had been once a couple of years ago because Julian insisted he should meet his father, which was Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, and to his great relief he found a big silvery sign beside a row of elevators, listing the different levels and departments. The Department of Mysteries was at level nine.

Feeling his hear throbbing in his throat Harry hurried over to the elevators placed behind wrought golden grilles. It opened for him, and he stepped in. At the Australian Ministry you only needed to state the desired floor, so he tried that first.

"Level nine."

Nothing happened. Then he noticed the buttons on the wall and smacked his head mentally before pressing the one with number nine on. Oh, how he hoped he wasn't too late. He had only used a few minutes to get here, but every second counted.

The elevator started to sink, rapidly increasing the speed, bringing him far down below ground level. Now, having a little time to think, Harry realized how strange it was to just being able to floo to the ministry in the middle of the night. He'd think that even the Brits had ensured higher security measures; after all, this was their Ministry. It wasn't some place anyone should be in, and how they possibly could allow someone to just enter without a single problem was beyond him.

After something which felt like an eternity the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Harry stepped out to look around, now glad to have the memory of the vision to guide him through the corridors. He didn't get far, however, before he heard the low hissing voice from his dream.

_The Dark Lord will be ssso pleased... The Dark Lord will congratulate me and thank me for my effortsss..._

The next moment a big, green snake appeared around a corner.

_Now, who isss thisss? A boy? A mere child?_ The snake hissed, halting. _Now I recognize you... Potter. My Master will be ssso pleased..._

Harry recognized the signs of an attack as the snake pulled backwards, preparing to pounce. He had seen it several times; after all, there were not few snakes in Australia. Pulling his wand he prepared to defend himself. That is, until he realized that this was Voldemort's snake. Oh no, it wouldn't escape him to do even more damage, Harry decided. Now knowing what it could do, he didn't want others to suffer the same fate as Mr. Weasley. _Avada Kedavra!_

The green light he had grown familiar with during his many nightmares flashed from his wand and hit the snake which hissed in anger right before a man's scream filled the room. The snake started to bleed, but Harry didn't stand to watch. He ran past the remains of the reptile and down the corridor he remembered from the vision. Then he met the door. With a blast of magic, sent by pure emotions he knocked the door open and stormed into the room. The room was dark, so he lit his wand, causing thousands of glass orbs to shine in the light. Rows and rows with these orbs filled the room, and he realized that the vision didn't help much now. He had to follow his gut feeling.

With that in mind he turned right and passed about four rows before turning left. By the edge of the range of his wand light Harry spotted a figure lying still on the ground. Once again panic threatened to overwhelm him, and only the power of his own will managed to keep his head cool.

"Mr. Weasley!" He exclaimed and hurried towards him. His chest was bleeding, and a pool of dark blood was surrounding him. "Mr. Weasley!" Mr. Weasley didn't react. "Please don't be dead," he muttered.

Fearing the worst Harry felt his wrist for a pulse. It was there, but weak. He had to get to the hospital. No, the Hospital Wing wouldn't do. Madam Pomfrey was good, but Voldemort's snake's venom... there had to be some tricks in it. He levitated Mr. Weasley behind him and hurried out of the room and down the corridors he had arrived. The way to the elevators felt twice as long as the way to the room with the glass orbs, but finally he got there after passing the still dead snake.

He felt like the elevator couldn't move fast enough, and was stomping slightly stressed as the elevator raised towards ground level again. When the doors finally opened and the female voice finally announced the Atrium Harry didn't waste a second, but hurried over to the fireplaces. Realizing he couldn't bring a levitating Mr. Weasley through the floo, as that could result in a chaos when they emerged, he hoisted him over his shoulders in a fireman's lift. He was glad Mr. Weber had pushed him so hard during strength exercises, because Mr. Weasley was a full-grown man. He was still bleeding from the wound, dyeing Harry's shirt red.

Managing to get one hand free he grabbed a handful of floo powder from a jar by one of the fireplaces and threw it inside. "St. Mungo's Hospital!" he cried, relieved when the green flames carried him away.

When the flames died out he managed to step out of the ashes without stumbling for once. Looking around in the white room he found a reception and chairs gathered in groups as well as a few healers wandering about in lime green robes. At the flare of the fire most of them turned to look.

"Help, please," Harry begged, and no more than a second later a witch was beside him and conjured a stretcher.

"Put him down here," she ordered. "And tell me what happened."

Harry put Mr. Weasley down on the stretcher with care as to not hurt him even more. "He was bit by a venomous snake. I don't know what kind it is, but something says me it's not a normal snake. Please help him."

"Of course we will," the woman said dryly before disappearing down a corridor with the stretcher with Mr. Weasley hovering in front of her.

A couple of other healers hurried after her while a male healer approached Harry and pulled out a notebook.

"Do you know his name?" he asked.

"Arthur Weasley, sir. He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office," Harry said, remembering the twins having mentioned it in a letter.

"And who are you?" the healer asked as a quill moved across the notebook on its own accord.

"Harry Potter, sir."

The healer gaped at him, and his quill stopped for a short moment before writing down his name. "Mr. Potter, I... what are... how..." he stuttered, seemingly unable to figure out something sensible to say.

"Could you please tell the Weasley family, sir?" Harry asked politely, knowing that they would want to know about it as soon as possible.

"Y-yes, Mr. Potter," the healer said and disappeared.

Harry looked after him and collapsed into a chair close to the fireplace. What now? Should he go back to the carriage immediately, or should he wait to see how Mr. Weasley was doing? After a few seconds of thoughts he decided on the latter. With a sigh he leaned forwards and rested his forehead in his hands. He hoped that Professor Daniels wouldn't be too mad at him for using his fireplace without asking and leaving the carriage in the middle of the night. Thinking back he hadn't offered much time to think; he had merely acted. Even the killing curse – hell, he had performed a killing curse! _On a snake, not a person_, a voice in his head told him.

But what if he had arrived too late and Mr. Weasley was dead? Or if the venom killed him? Silently he prayed that Mr. Weasley would make it.

Harry startled as the fireplace flared up with green flames, and a plump kind-looking woman he recognized he didn't recognize. However, seeing as she had the famous Weasley-red hair and rather worn clothes he assumed it was Mrs. Weasley.

She looked around with a worried expression before approaching the reception. "Where can I find Arthur Weasley?" she asked, her voice revealing her battle against the tears as well.

The witch behind the reception glanced at her. "You are Molly Weasley?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded quickly.

"He's currently under treatment. Please sit down, and you will be informed about his status," the receptionist said and waved her hand towards the chairs.

With a heavy sigh and a frown of worry she moved over and was about to sit down when her brown eyes stopped at Harry. A few seconds she appeared unsure of what to do, so Harry resumed his former position, his gaze glued to the floor.

"Excuse me?" she asked in a hesitant tone, making him look at her again.

"May I help you, ma'am?" he asked politely, trying to hide his worries about Mr. Weasley's condition.

"The healers told me that the rescuer of my husband was still here... is that you?" she asked carefully.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said lowly and stared on his hands which he hadn't realized until now were bloody. As were his shirt and parts of his jeans. "I'm sorry if I... I had to do something when I knew... I'm sorry."

Mrs. Weasley sat down beside him. "It's not your fault. Could you please tell me what happened?" her voice was soft and careful; Harry doubted she recognized him. After all she had only seen him once when he was eleven because he doubted the Prophet shared many pictures of him from Quidditch matches.

"I... I found him in the Department of Mysteries, ma'am. He had been bitten by Voldemort's – " Mrs. Weasley flinched at the word, but he ignored it, "- snake and brought him here," he said, not wanting to mention his visions. She wouldn't believe him if he did. "The snake was venomous, but I don't know what kind of venom it was. Probably not normal snake venom, as it was Tom's snake. Anyway, I killed it so it can't do others any harm."

Silence filled the room for a few seconds before she spoke again. "Thank you, Mr..?"

"Potter," he filled out for her, blushing heavily as he did and kept his gaze locked to the floor.

Mrs. Weasley gasped, and in the corner of his eye he could see her covering her mouth with her hand. "P-Potter? Harry Potter?"

"Unfortunately, yes, ma'am," he muttered.

"I'm... I..." she stuttered, desperately searching for words. "You're covered in blood," she stated.

Harry looked at her and frowned. "Sorry, ma'am." _Tergeo_.

Her eyes opened wide as the blood disappeared from his face, hand and clothes. "Wandless magic... how did you..?"

"I'm not studying at Hogwarts anymore, ma'am," Harry told her calmly.

"Why did you leave?"

"You should probably go and check on your children, ma'am. I suppose they're worried," Harry said, reluctant to answer her question.

"Y-yes, of course." Befuddled she walked over to the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder which she threw into the fireplace. "Dumbledore's office!"

Harry sighed in relief when the woman disappeared and resolved to wait there until he got some news on Mr. Weasley's health. He doubted he would be able to sleep anyway, even though the clock on the wall over the reception showed ten to five in the morning.

Hours moved past as if the time was moved by snails. Harry put use to the time practicing wandless magic by creating a ball of water in his hand and shaping it in different shapes. When the clock hit seven he was startled by a healer who approached him.

"You're the one who brought in Arthur Weasley, right?" he asked.

Harry nodded and frowned in concern. "Is he okay, sir? Will he survive?"

"He will survive, but we have to find an antidote to the venom. The venom causes the bleeding to continue and refuses to stop. Mr. Weasley is to take Blood-Replenishing Potion regularly until we find the antidote. Our most skilled potions brewers are working on the case at this very moment," the healer said.

"Is there anything I could do to help?" Harry asked hopefully.

"You have already helped. You saved his life," the healer said before leaving again.

Sighing again Harry stood and walked over to the fireplace. He figured there wouldn't be any purpose to stay any longer.


	20. Chapter 20

Harry found the Weasleys huddled together by the Gryffindor table later that morning. Deciding they wanted time alone he joined Marcus and Jonathan at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast.

"Harry, where were you? We told Professor Reaburn, and she left to talk with Dumbledore, and we didn't hear anything more," Jonathan complained.

"Sorry. I was at the hospital until fifteen minutes ago. I had to know if Mr. Weasley would make it. By the way, I should probably tell the Weasleys..." Harry muttered before standing again.

He made his way over to the Gryffindor table and stopped beside the twins. "Can I speak with you?" he asked lowly.

The twins stood, but Ron and Ginny remained seated.

Deciding to forego his anger for Ron he said; "I think all of you want to hear this," Harry said, glancing at the two youngest.

The group of redheads followed him outside the Great Hall and to an empty corridor nearby.

"Harry," one of the twins began.

"Mum told us that you saved dad... She was so ashamed of herself for calling you... what the Prophet did..." the other said.

Harry ignored it and looked more at the twins than Ron and Ginny. "I got the condition of your father fifteen minutes ago before I left St. Mungo. He'll live, but is dependent on Blood-Replenishing Potion until they can find an antidote against the venom. I just thought you wanted to know. And I'm sorry to interrupt your family life. I just couldn't let him die if I could help it," Harry said, sending a glance at Ron before he left.

The next Quidditch match between Durmstrang and Beauxbatons was set in December, right when the Waratah students started their exams, but they took a break from the studies to watch the match. Harry thought it was very important to figure how to beat Viktor, and seeing him catching the snitch easily against Beauxbatons seeker Durand. Harry figured that a Wronski Feint wouldn't do much since Viktor could go about as low as Harry.

The written exams were what Harry was dreading the most. At least the Arithmancy exam. Though Runes were complex, he felt he had the strange symbols under control, so he didn't spend very much time on that. He remembered when they had chosen subjects for fourth year; most students chose Muggle Studies, but muggle-borns and those raised by muggles, like Harry, was the main part of Magical Creatures classes.

The practical exams were usually more interesting, but Harry frowned slightly when one of the tasks on the Charms exam was the Summoning Charm non-verbally. When he exited the room he was met with a sour Dylan who complained about having his pillow hit his face.

"Well, at least you summoned it," Harry chuckled.

"Harry! What if it had been an anvil?"

"Why the heck would you summon an anvil? Only muggles use anvils; you're a wizard. You you're supposed to have grown up among them?" Harry muttered before making his way up to the castle for dinner.

The last exam was Herbology, where they were to harvest a Wriggling Moonfruit tree, which was protecting its fruits by squirming and twisting as soon as you touched it. Moonfruit were common ingredients in wizarding foods, and Harry had considered giving one to aunt Petunia for Christmas when he realized it wouldn't do well with a moving tree in the garden in a muggle neighbourhood. Instead he opted to buy her an aquarium of underwater herbs like freshwater ginger and emona, both of which were magical herbs, used in food.

The Waratah students were offered to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas, though there were put up portkeys to Sydney since they would have vacation until February.

At breakfast the morning after the last exam Harry received a letter from Sirius.

_Hey pup,_

_I hope I'm not too late about asking you this, but I wonder if you'd like to celebrate Christmas with me and Remus? You could take the Hogwarts Express to London, and I'll meet you at Kings Cross. We understand if you'd rather want to take the portkey back to Sydney for the holiday, but we were hoping to get to know you even better._

_Sirius._

Harry couldn't hide a grin and glanced at Fred and George, who were eating as if they hadn't seen food in months – as usual. "Sirius invited me to celebrate Christmas with him and Remus," he said.

The twins looked up. "That's great! I hope he decides to renovate the house soon. It's old, grim and just... depressing," George said as he stared at the front page of the Prophet.

MASS BREAK-OUT IN AZKABAN

"You've been there?"

"Yup."

Harry frowned and stared critically at them for a few moments before returning to his letter. Pulling out two parchments he first wrote a reply to Sirius.

_Dear Padfoot,_

_I'd love to celebrate Christmas with you two._

_Harry._

The next he wrote was for the Dursleys.

_Dear aunt Petunia, uncle Vernon and Dudley,_

_I'll be celebrating Christmas with Sirius and Remus this year. I hope you're not too disappointed. I'll be in Sydney in January anyway, since the team is having those two weeks of practice. I think that will be necessary if I want to beat Viktor Krum in the tournament. I mentioned he's playing for Durmstrang, didn't I? He said he had to redo a year, but Krum is not stupid. I think Karkaroff asked him to come and play just because he didn't want to lose._

_Anyway, all the exams are done; I think I did fairly well on them all, though I might have done several mistakes in Arithmancy._

_I'll see you over Christmas,_

_Love, Harry._

After finished eating he left for the owlery and sent Hedwig to Sirius before picking a big strong-looking tawny owl.

"Are you up for a trip to Sydney?" he asked.

The owl hooted and extended its leg towards him, allowing him to tie the letter to it before taking off and leaving.

In his search for something interesting to read these last days of term Harry had pulled out _Water Plants of the Coral Sea _by Emmelia Lance and was sitting at the Hogwarts library reading rather than in the carriage because, even though there was a library in the carriage, Dylan had insisted on going here to find a book about British magical creatures, and he was now flicking through some books about the more dangerous creatures.

"Wow... I'm almost ashamed to say we're descendants of the Brits," Dylan said after half an hour of silence.

Harry glanced up from where he was reading about the usage of different seaweeds. "What?"

"I mean; to say that werewolves are dangerous, uncontrollable beasts with no common sense – haven't they realized that they are completely human except for that one night in the month?"

Harry frowned. "Brits are a bit narrow-minded, you know that – or at least their Ministry is."

Suddenly a sharp pain filled his head, streaming from his scar, and Harry keeled over as his vision shimmered.

_He was in a dark room only lit with an occasional lantern, and he was sitting in a throne-like chair. In front of him kneeled a woman with thick dark hair and heavily hooded eyes._

"_Is it still secure in your vault, Bella?" Harry asked, his voice being the cold voice he recognized belonged to Voldemort._

"_I'm sorry, my lord?" Bella asked, appearing confused._

"_Hufflepuff's cup! Is it still secure in your vault?" Harry exclaimed, feeling his temper rise._

_He couldn't allow anything happen to that cup. Luckily for him very few people knew about horcruxes, and those who did, wouldn't have any idea what to do with it. It was a clever concept, really._

"_Yes, my lord, the cup is still there," Bella said, keeping her head bent."_

_Harry felt himself relaxing in relief. Good. Of the six the cup was of the most protected – except for the locket, that is. An image flashed into his head of a golden locket with a green S on._

"_Make sure it stays that way," He told Bella before Harry's vision faded, and the library shelves appeared in front of him._

"Harry? Harry, are you okay?" Dylan was kneeling beside him, his face twisted in concern.

Harry's hand clutched his scar, which was still burning intensely, and he nodded slightly. "At least I will be. Dylan, do you know what a Horcrux is?" Harry asked as he pushed himself upright.

Dylan frowned. "Never heard about it. Why?"

"Tom was thinking about it. I have to find out." With that Harry turned his focus from water plants to horcruxes, which was a difficult task when not having anything to go by other than it was probably some very dark magic involved.

"Can't we have a look inside your carriage?" Fred asked as they walked towards the white Waratah carriage so Harry could get his trunk after breakfast the first day of holiday.

The snow covered the landscape like a white carpet, and several Durmstrang students were ice skating on the Black Lake.

"You know, see all the secrets you Aussies are hiding from us?" George added with a mischievous grin.

Harry snorted. "What interesting would it be inside a carriage? Dorms, classrooms and common rooms?" he asked. "The only thing interesting there would be the library. We have books not found at Hogwarts, while on the other hand we have only a handful of British books," he said before entering the carriage.

The twins sighed, but remained outside, and when Harry appeared again with his trunk and broom they stared at the wooden stick with curiosity.

"Tell me again what kind of broom that is?" George asked. "I've never seen one like that before we saw that match against England."

Harry smiled and wandlessly levitated his trunk and Hedwig's cage so they floated in the air beside him. "It's a Sunfire. Australian model. Everyone at the national team uses it. I daresay it's even better than the Firebolt if Malfoy's broom is anything to go by."

"But you could have beaten Malfoy on a Cleansweep!" Fred argued.

Harry just waved his hand and didn't comment it as they walked down to Hogsmeade. The scarlet train he remembered from his first year looked just as impressive as it had the first time he saw it. They found Neville inside an empty compartment close to the rear of the train.

"Hey, Neville! Looking forward to Christmas?" Harry asked while Neville struggled to push his trunk on the luggage rack, and helped him.

"I guess. Thanks, Harry." Neville said and watched as Harry levitated his own trunk onto the rack.

"I guess? Is something wrong?" Harry asked, frowning slightly as he sat down by the window.

"I'm just worried that Gran will be disappointed in me. You know after the practicing we had together; I can barely do a disarming spell. I can't really blame my wand either, since it was my father's – "

"It was your father's?" Harry exclaimed, making Neville jump in surprise. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"I-It's okay. And yeah, the wand belonged to my father. Gran thought it'd do good things for me too," Neville said.

Harry looked at him silently for a few seconds as the twins glanced between them, trying to figure what Harry was thinking.

"Would you be mad if I took that wand and gave you money insisting that you got a new?" Harry asked.

Neville gawked at him. "No, you can't do that! Gran would be furious!"

"What if you tell her I broke it accidentally? A wand chooses its wizard, thus the wand that has chosen you would work best for you instead of that one." Harry motioned towards the wand Neville was twirling between his fingers.

"Harry, I..."

"Please? I want the best for you, and money is no problem. Please let me do this."

Sighing, Neville nodded. "Okay, then," he said and handed Harry his father's wand. "Are you going to snap it?"

Harry handed him some galleons and shrugged. "If you want me to. I have no use for it. The only one it will work properly for is your father."

"Oh."

Harry spent most of the time discussing Exploding Beans with Neville as they had a common interest in Herbology. Fred and George, who didn't share their enthusiasm for plants, were taking notes on a parchment and muttered lowly amongst themselves.

When the train pulled up on the station Harry pulled down the trunk and grabbed Hedwig's cage, which had been placed on the floor, before he climbed out of the train. Neville and the twins were following closely, but once outside the twins told them goodbye and went to join the gang of redheads under the charge of Mrs. Weasley who sent Harry a thoughtful look.

"There you are, pup!" a familiar voice exclaimed, and Harry saw Sirius making his way towards him with Remus right behind.

"Sirius!" Harry happily answered the hug his godfather pulled him into, and right after gave one to Remus.

"All is well, I hope?" Remus asked.

"Yeah."

"Hello, Neville," Remus lifted a hand towards Neville, who smiled.

"Hi, Professor Lupin," he replied with a grin.

"Please, call me Remus. I'm not your professor anymore. How are you doing? Coping with Snape alright?" Remus asked.

"Yes. Harry made me use my knowledge of plants in Potions," Neville said, smiling. "Turns out I know all the necessary facts, it's just that Snape had kind of paralyzed me from getting to the knowledge."

"Well, that's great!" Remus told him.

"Anyway, Harry, I'll see you after the break," Neville said.

"Oh wait, did I mention I will leave for two weeks of practice with the team? I'll be back in mid-January, though," Harry explained hurriedly.

"Yes, of course. Wouldn't dream of stopping you while Mr. Weber is your coach," Neville said, grinning. "See ya!"

"Right. Bye," Harry said as he followed Remus and Sirius through the barrier. "Where are we going, exactly?" he asked.

"To my family home. It's not of the merriest, but it's used as Headquarters by the –" Sirius was cut off by Remus, who stuck his elbow into his ribs. "Ow!"

"Not telling here," Remus muttered. "We'll explain once we get there."

Once outside the station Sirius and Remus lead him into an alley. "We're going to apparate, so please hold on to my arm," Sirius said.

Harry complied, and the next moment he felt like he was pushed through the mouth of a bottle. When the feeling disappeared he struggled to stay standing for a moment, but his gaze quickly shot up as he heard Sirius chuckling.

"I see you like apparating just as much as your father. He, like you, preferred the broomsticks," he said. "Now, I want you to look between number eleven and thirteen there."

For the first time Harry noticed they were standing on a street in front of a row of houses, but that number twelve was missing. Instead number eleven and number thirteen sat right beside each other, not even with enough space between them to fit a piece of parchment.

"Um..." Harry glanced back at Sirius, but did as he was told.

"Look for number twelve," Sirius muttered.

After something which felt like minutes Harry was about to give up and turn back to Sirius when another house appeared between numbers eleven and thirteen. It didn't look any different at all; the same old-looking brick house like all the other houses.

"That's – that's your home?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Welcome to number twelve Grimmauld Place," Sirius said as he guided Harry towards the door with a hand on his shoulder. "I was raised here, and though I was disinherited Remus and I went here after leaving Australia."

The door was pushed open, revealing a long hallway with thin-worn carpet and flaky walls lit by a chandelier and gas lamps, which were probably run by magic rather than gas. A troll leg was standing by the door, making Harry frown in disgust. His frown grew even worse when he realized that there were heads of house-elves hanging on plaques by the stairs in the other end of the hallway.

The edges of a portrait was visible beneath a pair of curtains, and Sirius put his fingers to his lips, looking from the portrait to Harry as they passed. Once inside the dining room Sirius shut the door and turned to Harry while Remus dumped down on a chair beside the table.

"That portrait is of my mother. She was a pureblood supremacist, and hates everyone who is not, so Remus here often has a fit with her," Sirius said.

"Why don't you just take it down?" Harry inquired.

"Permanent Sticking charm," Sirius replied with a sigh.

Harry looked around in the kitchen. "Why is this house so depressive? So grim? How can you stand to live here?" Harry asked while sitting down on a chair between the table and a cabinet filled with china.

"I was going to renovate... the Weasleys are coming to help us clean here, there are too much nasty left from my parents' time. Hermione specifically requested a clean-up," Sirius said.

"The Weasleys?" Harry frowned in uncertainty. "All of them?"

"Yes, indeed. I'm going to show them what a lovely boy you are," Sirius said firmly, leaving no room for arguments.

_A/N: Sorry about the updating thing. I've removed the replies I wrote to you guys. If you want questions answered please PM me, but I want you to know that I really appreciate you reviewing the chapters._


	21. Chapter 21

"Do you mind if I look around? I've never been in a Wizarding home before."

"What?"

"You've never?" Remus wondered. "Haven't you ever visited your friends during summer?"

"Not really. I join them on holidays instead. Last summer we went to Brazil because Julian wanted to get some venom from a poison dart frog – he wanted to use it in some sort of potion, don't ask me what kind it was, because I don't remember. Anyway, it didn't matter much to me because I found the rare Dragontongue Fern which is awesome, and Professor Daniels even asked me if he could have some for the Greenhouses at Waratah. It's very useful in potions, but because they're so rare they're not used much. The potions masters at Waratah are trying to improve the Wolfsbane Potion now that he has access to it, because if he can it might be possible to – why are you laughing?" Harry asked, slightly hurt when Sirius chuckled as he leaned against the back of the chair.

"I never imagined James' son that enthusiastic about _plants_," Sirius said, grinning widely.

"Well, Herbology happens to be interesting, and when you are sorted in Lionpaw _and_ share dorm with Julian Pennington, you shouldn't really be surprised," Harry said.

"What did you say about the Wolfsbane Potion, Harry?" Remus asked in a serious, but curious tone, bringing them back to the subject.

"What? Oh, yes! As I was saying, the Dragontongue Fern might make it possible to cure lycanthropy," Harry said with a smile.

"Really? You can cure lycanthropy?" Remus exclaimed, suddenly looking far younger than just a minute earlier.

"Maybe, but please don't get your hopes up yet. We don't know if it will succeed yet, though they are on the brink of something," Harry said, worried that Remus might be disappointed if it didn't work out.

"I understand. Thanks for telling me, Harry," Remus said.

"No problem. I was kind of taken away. The Dragontongue Fern only exist in a small section of the innermost parts of the Amazon, and not even the Brazilian herbologists have them in their greenhouses. The only place I know of so far who have domesticated Dragontongue Ferns are greenhouses at Waratah," Harry said, smiling proudly.

"Herbology really is your favourite subject, isn't it?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, sharing the first place with defence."

Just then a wrinkly house-elf with bulbous snout-like nose and incredibly wrinkly skin even for a house-elf appeared in the doorway.

"Bringing foul creatures into the house, what would the mistress say? Filth, yes indeed." the house-elf croaked. "She would be sorely disappointed in Kreacher had she knew the boy who brought down the Dark Lord was in her house, oh yes."

"Kreacher! Shut up and leave!" Sirius bellowed, causing Harry to jump in surprise.

Throwing nasty looks to everyone in the room Kreacher walked away, muttering curses under his breath.

"What!" Harry exclaimed. "Why are you treating him like that? Had you treated him kindly maybe you could have changed his view of that so-called "filth"!"

Sirius blinked in surprise. "Harry, you saw what he called Remus!" Sirius argued, sounding slightly irritated.

"Yes, I did, and though it's not your fault he got that way I blame you for not doing anything with it," Harry said, crossing his arms firmly.

"You can't honestly expect me to do anything about that disgusting creature?" Sirius started flailing while Remus watched the argument with a slight frown on his brow.

"Yes, I do!" Harry stated.

Sirius gaped at him. "It's not possible to do anything with him! He's only set about Bellatrix and my mother!"

"Want to bet? I bet five galleons that I can have him stop using bad language about people before I leave."

"Oh, you're on! Easily made money!" Sirius said, wringing his hands with a sly grin on his face.

So far Remus had remained silent, but now he chose the moment to speak up. "Harry, I'm not sure if that was very clever of you."

Harry looked at him and smiled. "Thanks for the support, Moony."

Remus snorted and stood. "I suggest we make a dinner. We've already waited long enough."

Harry was on his feet immediately. "I can help!"

Remus looked at him. "You know how to cook?"

"Of course. The Dursleys had me cook for them from I was tall enough to reach the stove. That is, until the summer after my first year. I had to persuade aunt Petunia for her to allow me to help," Harry said smiling as they made their way down the stairs to the kitchen.

The two men stared at him for several seconds.

"So, what are we making?"

"What do you want?"

"Treacle tart!" Sirius exclaimed, his eyes sparkling slightly at the thought.

"You can't have treacle tart for dinner, Sirius," Harry said as he looked through the kitchen. "I don't suppose you have turkey or chicken?"

"Probably. I don't know," Sirius replied.

Harry frowned. "How have you survived for so long when you don't even know what you have in your own kitchen? Oh, right. You've got Remus."

Sirius merely grinned and sat down on one of the few chairs in the kitchen, where he remained even when Harry finally pulled out pieces of some kind of poultry as well as different other ingredients. Remus stood beside him and studied the ingredients that were placed on the kitchen counter.

"What are you planning to make?"

"Chicken curry," Harry said and pulled out his wand.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Remus exclaimed at the sight of the wooden stick.

"Cooking dinner?" Frowning in confusion Harry glanced at him for a moment.

"With magic? You're going to be expelled!" Now Sirius finally chose the moment to turn serious.

Harry snorted, and with a wave of his wand knives appeared from the drawers and started chopping food as he placed a saucepan on the stove.

Sirius sighed and covered his face with his hands in resignation. "I'm so not glad I'm not the Dursleys at the moment."

"Why?" Harry wondered.

"To get the news that you are expelled."

"Why would you think I would be expelled?" Harry glanced at him while trying to look as innocent as possible. He felt he succeeded pretty well at that.

"Merlin, Harry! You're using magic, and you're not yet seventeen!" Sirius exclaimed.

"Didn't I mention that we're allowed to use magic outside school after third year?" Harry asked innocently.

Sirius and Remus stared at him in disbelief. "No, you didn't."

"Well, you can. At least _we_ can. I'm not a Brit anymore. As long as you pass your S.W.I. you are allowed to do most magic outside school," Harry explained.

Sirius sighed in relief. "You could have told us that before! I don't know what I would have done if you were expelled, Harry."

Harry grinned sheepishly at him before turning back to the meal. Remus plopped down on a chair again.

"Seems like you don't need me," he said.

"I've got this under control. Don't worry," Harry replied.

The dinner was done within an hour, but when Harry placed _four_ plates on the table instead of three, Sirius frowned.

"You're not planning on making Kreacher eating with us, are you?"

"So what if I am? At least I'm asking him," Harry said and looked around. "If I can find him, that is." With that he took off to find the house-elf, because he had meant what he had told Sirius earlier. He believed the house-elf could change. At least several of the elves at Waratah had, and even the grumpiest of them had grown a remarkable loyalty to one of the students.

After a while he found Kreacher in a small room behind a door in the kitchen. Obviously it was his little place because there were all sorts of souvenirs in there as well as a heap of rags.

"Hey, Kreacher. Would you like to eat dinner with us?" Harry asked, ignoring the dismayed look of Sirius and Remus' uncertain expression.

"Nasty brat dare ask Kreacher to eat dinner!" Kreacher croaked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"Well, it was just an offer. You don't have to if you don't want."

"Master Sirius has probably put poison in the food. Oh yes, Master Sirius doesn't want Kreacher here. But Kreacher is not fooled," Kreacher muttered, not moving in either direction.

"I'll make sure Sirius doesn't poison the food. After all he's going to eat it too, and he wouldn't poison himself," Harry stated calmly.

Kreacher narrowed his eyes as he stared at Harry, then made his way towards the stairs. Harry followed him and had to admit his small success when Kreacher entered the dining room and climbed onto a chair. Sirius seemed like he was going to object, but Harry sent him a warning look before he placed some food on Kreacher's bowl as well as his own.

Sirius helped himself with an unhappy look and started eating under Kreacher's observant gaze. Only when he saw all the three humans eating he dug his spoon into the bowl and put it in his mouth, tasting the food critically. Harry chose not to comment on it as he didn't want to say something that might upset him.

"So, Harry, when is next match for the national team?" Remus asked.

"Well, we won't have more than a few friendly matches this upcoming season, but next season we will have the qualifications for the Quidditch World Cup in two years. I choose to focus on beating Krum in the tournament at Hogwarts at the moment. He's a tricky one," Harry admitted.

"You haven't played him before?" Sirius asked.

"No. Anyway, I'm surprised he was there at all. He should have graduated last year, but I suspect he has been asked to play because Durmstrang is afraid to lose," Harry told them.

"Yeah, especially after they heard that you would be playing," Sirius grinned excitedly.

Harry blushed. "Shut it, Padfoot," he muttered. "Krum has a lot more experience than me."

"What about the Hogwarts team? About half of it consists of Weasleys," Sirius said, eagerly participating in the conversation as it was themed about Quidditch.

"They're good. I didn't pay much attention to them, though, other than Malfoy," Harry said, seeing Kreacher's head snap up at the mention of Malfoy's name. Apparently that had some sort of importance for him.

"You beat him pretty easily, didn't you?" Sirius grinned manically.

"You know, he's actually pretty good. He could go professional with a little more focused training. And I don't think he's as bad as people say he is. He thanked me for healing his wound," Harry told them, causing them both to raise their brows.

"A Malfoy thanking a Potter? That would be the first time in history," Remus muttered.

Harry merely shrugged and turned his focus towards his food.

After the meal Harry helped Remus and Sirius cleaning in the house. They had already started under Remus' persistence and claiming that there were too many dangerous artefacts in there to deem the house liveable. The problem was that any simple object could turn into a killer. Meanwhile Sirius told Harry about the Black family, how he was treated by his parents when sorted in Gryffindor as well as his brother Regulus' service under Voldemort.

"Do you have a library here, Sirius?" Harry asked curiously as he pulled down a couple of rusty daggers from the top of a cabinet in the kitchen.

"Library? No, but there are a lot of books in the drawing room. Why do you ask?" Sirius glanced curiously at him while emptying the shelves in the cabinet.

"Because there's something I want to find out what is, and I thought since you mentioned that many of the Blacks were supporters of Tom what I search for might be here," Harry said.

"What is it that you want to find out about?" Remus wondered.

"I don't know yet. I'll tell you if I find it," Harry replied.

They slowly worked themselves through the kitchen and half of the ground floor before deciding to go to sleep as the clock had passed eleven in the evening. Harry was showed to one of the many bedrooms which had a big bed and faded curtains with tears in it as if a cat had tried to climb them.

ANC ANC ANC

No one would have taken Harry for being an early riser, though he usually was the first to wake up in his dorm at Waratah. He pulled on his clothes and made his way to the drawing room in search for the books Sirius had mentioned. He found them easily on shelves which hid parts of the Black family tree that decorated the walls of the room. They held books like _Etiquettes of purebloods_, _History of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ and _How to_ _murder mudbloods_. Harry pulled out one _Darkest Magic of the Dark_, already dreading what he would find.

He sat down in the dining room and opened it, absently noting the name written on the inside of the cover: _Regulus_. He started flicking through the book in search for the word "horcrux." The only things he found there were all sorts of other dark and cruel magic, things he couldn't believe someone would do.

Midway through the book he was startled by Remus who peered in at him.

"Morning, cub. How are you?"

"Good. I think. Well, this book isn't exactly helping," he said and held it up so Remus could see the title.

"I see. Do you think you can find what you're searching for in there?" Remus asked.

"Maybe. I hope so. Is Padfoot awake yet?"

Remus snorted. "You don't believe that he's up at eight in the morning, do you?"

"Well, what would I know," Harry replied and turned over a page in the book. "Here!" he exclaimed so suddenly that Remus jumped in surprise and hurried over to him.

"_Horcrux. The darkest kind of magic imaginable. A horcrux is an object in which resides a piece of a person's soul. The object can be anything, but is indestructible unless destroyed with something that does not allow it to repair itself. To create a horcrux one must spit one's soul, and to do that you must commit a murder. However, a split soul is very unstable, and the author of this advises to not attempt such magic. A horcrux has the ability to influence people in their vicinity. A mentally weaker person might even be possessed by the soul residing in the horcrux. A horcrux will make the creator immortal_," Remus read.

"That's what Tom has!" Harry exclaimed, surprised of his own success.

"You think so? How do you know?" Remus asked.

"Because I had a vision a few days ago where Tom was worried about Helga Hufflepuff's cup. I think that is one of his horcruxes," Harry explained.

"One of them? There are more?" Remus asked, raising his brows in surprise.

"I believe there are six in total, but I don't know about others than the cup, which is hidden inside the Lestrange vault in Gringotts."

Remus sighed. "Then if this is true Voldemort could not be killed unless all the horcruxes are gone. Let's get down to the kitchen. I want a cup of coffee."

They left the dining room and silently moved down the stairs to avoid disturbing Mrs. Black. Remus made himself a cup of coffee as Harry sat down to think. How in the world could he destroy a horcrux? And what were the other horcruxes? How would he get the cup when it was locked inside a vault?

His train of thoughts was interrupted when a wheezing cough sounded from Kreacher's den. Frowning Harry stood and walked over, aware of Remus' gaze glued to his back. Knocking on the door he called carefully. "Kreacher?"

The only response was a low muttering of curses which Harry was glad Sirius didn't hear, so he opened the door.

Kreacher was lying in the heap of rags with yellowish skin and bloodshot eyes. His body was shivering, and the elf pulled a dirty rag around his body, throwing a glare at Harry.

"Are you ill, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher ill! What is he thinking?" Kreacher croaked with a hoarse voice.

"Don't try to fool me, Kreacher. I've dealt with sick house-elves at my school, and I know you are sick," Harry said and pulled out his wand.

As he flicked it through the air a red glowing number appeared in the air above Kreacher. 36.5.

"That's cold!" Remus exclaimed as he peered in.

"No, that's hot considering house-elves normally have body temperature of thirty-four," Harry told him.

Remus stared at him in incredulity. "How do you know that?"

"Magical Creatures class," Harry said. "We have learned how to deal with sick elves as there are over hundreds of them at Waratah. Now, I hope I remembered to bring juice of Moonfruit." Without any further explanation he left to search his trunk, and returned a couple of minutes later with a bottle of a silvery grey liquid and a vial of octopus powder.

Remus moved closer to watch as Harry started measuring the liquid and the powder and put it in a glass before he conjured a lid on.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a healing potion. It's pretty simple and cures most illnesses, but you can only use it on house-elves. A decilitre of Moonfruit juice and three teaspoons of octopus powder and shake it until it's midnight blue." Harry shook the glass for nearly half a minute as the mixture grew darker and darker. When it was almost black Harry stopped and looked at it with satisfaction. "There."

Returning to Kreacher's den he knelt beside the elf and opened the lid.

"Drink this, please. It'll make you feel better." Harry said calmly and handed it to him.

Kreacher glanced from him to the mixture for a few seconds before sitting up slightly and accepting the glass. He drowned the mixture without question, something Remus seemingly noticed because he raised a brow.

"I suggest you rest today, Kreacher, and then you'll be up on your feet in a whiff," Harry said with a small smile and closed the door so a narrow stream of light entered the small room.

Remus had sat down by the table with his cup in his hand, and Harry joined him.

"Do you learn about house-elves at Waratah?" he asked.

"Yes, I told you. They work at the kitchen, just like at Hogwarts if I've understood Fred and George correctly. Many wizarding families in Australia have house-elves, but there are laws which regulate the treatment. You are not allowed to abuse your elf for instance, though very few do because people know that you only get a loyal elf by treating it kindly," Harry explained.

Remus nodded thoughtfully and sipped his coffee.

Sirius appeared in the doorway half an hour later, looking more like he was sleepwalking than being awake. "Morning," he croaked and sat down on a chair beside Remus.

"Good morning, Padfoot," Remus said and glared at him when Sirius took his cup and drowned the remains of the coffee.

"Did you sleep well, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"Yes, thank you. What do you want for breakfast?" Harry stood and started rummaging in the cupboards.

"I can make blinis. Some Russians taught me when Marcus insisted on going to Siberia during the winter holiday last year," Harry said and glanced at the others before he pulled out the ingredients.

"Why were you in Siberia of all places?" Sirius asked. "And in the winter? You are aware of that it is below minus forty degrees Celsius during winter in Siberia?"

"No, it wasn't _that_ cold. It was well above ten degrees above zero. Marcus just wanted to go because he deemed it an interesting place. It wasn't as interesting as we had thought, though," Harry explained as kitchen tools started moving around in the air.

"What other crazy places have you been to? I mean, the Amazon, Siberia..." Remus asked incredulously.

"Um... Galapagos?" Harry offered. "That was great, really! Marcus went crazy with all those new strange animals; he probably filled two thick photo albums with pictures. We're planning on visiting Antarctica next summer. I'd like to see if I could find those ice roses. Most people believe they're just legends, but Waratah has gathered proof that they're not. Only wizards and witches can see them though," Harry chatted eagerly.

Sirius and Remus stared at him. "You're planning on going to Antarctica?"

"Yes. Why?" he sent them a quizzical look.

"I'm not sure if you should. I mean, it's freezing cold there, and I don't want anything to happen with you, pup," Sirius said gravely.

Harry shrugged. "It's far more dangerous than in the Amazon or in the Sahara. There are no polar bears in Antarctica, only penguins."

"The Sahara?" Sirius exclaimed. "Harry, please tell me you weren't alone in the Sahara?"

"Of course not." Sirius sighed in relief. "Julian, Dylan, Marcus and Jonathan were with me."

Sirius let out an annoyed groan. "Why do you seek the places with the most dangerous animals on earth, Harry? Are you foolhardy?"

"No, I'm not. We are more capable of magic than you are aware of, Sirius, and we never leave without being prepared. We always practice several spells that shield us from animal attacks whether it be bears or mosquitoes, and we usually bring a big storage of healing potions," Harry told him before he flipped a pancake with a wave of his hand.

His explanation seemed to calm Sirius a bit, but he was obviously still upset, though he refrained from speaking.

"Have you been at Great Barrier Reef, Harry?" Remus asked curiously.

"Yes, of course! I live in Sydney! I've dived down there many times," Harry said with a grin. "It's really beautiful. You should try it once. I could give you some names of necessary antidotes against venoms of stingrays, lionfish, stonefish and so on if you want to."

"Thanks, Harry, but I think I can manage," Remus declined politely.

Not much later the meal was ready and the three of them sat down by the table. Harry wanted to offer food to Kreacher, but he was sleeping, so he decided he'd offer him some later.

Sirius dug in with an enthusiasm which could rival Ron as he glanced ad Harry. "Wha's wong wih' Keeh'er?" he asked with his mouth full of food.

"He's sick. I gave him a potion before you woke so he could get better soon," Harry explained.

Sirius swallowed with wide opened eyes. "Why the hell would you do that?" he exclaimed.

"What!" Harry cried in an incredulous tone. "Why shouldn't I? He's sick!"

"He's cruel and mean!" Sirius declared, thumping the handle of his knife into the wooden table so a mark appeared in the old timber.

"He is what your family made him! I told you! If you can't comprehend that, I'm going to write it on your pretty ass!" Harry exclaimed when orange yellow flames appeared around Harry's finger tips.

Sirius stared at him with a horrified expression, and when the table suddenly started trembling he darted out of the room.

"Harry, calm down," Remus tried carefully as he eyed the shaking table.

Harry closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten before he opened it again. The table was standing still on the floor, and Sirius was looking in from the doorway, appearing both in awe and fear.

"Who would think you'd go so protective over a mere house-elf?" Sirius muttered as he warily made his way towards the table again.

Harry huffed angrily. "House-elves are only what their masters make them. That's their nature, Sirius. What you said... it's like blaming me for my scar. Blaming someone innocent." At that Sirius got a guilty look, and his gaze fell to the breakfast plate.

"How did you make the table shake like that, Harry?" Remus asked.

Poking at his food Harry hesitated to answer.

"Harry?"

He glanced up at him with an apologetic look. "I lost control. Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Lost control?" Sirius asked, looking like a wandering question mark.

"Yeah."

"Oh."


	22. Chapter 22

Harry had just dealt with a boggart in one of the bedrooms in the second floor when he heard the floo activating. Jumping in surprise he pulled his wand and snuck down the stairs to the living room before aiming his wand at the people gathered in front of the now dead fire.

There was a bunch of redheads and in the middle of if a girl with bushy brown hair. He considered it for a moment before he lowered his wand, knowing that he was able to defend himself wandlessly if necessary.

"Hey, Harry!" Fred cheered.

"How are you doing?"

"Great."

"Great, he says," sounded Sirius' voice from the door. "Nearly burned my arse off this morning!" His voice was not angry, however, more teasing, playful.

Harry merely glared at him before Ginny embraced him slightly hesitant. "Thanks for saving dad's life, Harry," she said.

Harry blushed and suddenly found the floor very interesting. "It was nothing. I couldn't live with myself if I had let him die when knowing that I could do something about it," he muttered and suppressed the desire to flee the room.

"Yes, thank you so much, Harry," the twins chorused.

If his cheeks weren't already as red as tomatoes, they certainly did now. "Um... yeah... no problem," he said and finally gave in to his wish and walked out of the room.

He went down to the kitchen and knocked carefully on Kreacher's door. When no answer came he opened the door to find the elf sitting and fingering with an old bracelet with the Black family crest on.

"How are you feeling, Kreacher?" Harry asked.

The elf looked at him, but he didn't say anything. The venom in his gaze was gone, however. Harry silently performed the spell to check his temperature. It had sunk and was now much better.

"You're getting better, but please tell me if you feel any worse, okay?" Harry asked, not expecting an answer, so he was about to shut the door when he heard the low murmur of the elf: "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry said, slightly surprised, but had to hide a grin in his success on his way up the stairs again.

"Harry! Are you coming?" one of the twins called.

"Have you reached the drawing room?"

Harry didn't even get to answer before she shrieks of Mrs. Black filled the hallway. "Filthy blood-traitors in my house! How dare you let them in, Sirius! And that beast!"

The curtains had opened, and Mrs. Black paid no attention to the attempts on closing them again.

"Either you shut up, or I'll make you!" Harry threatened as he raised his hand in front of her, revealing a ball of fire.

The woman in the portrait stared at him with an infuriated expressions as the rest of the Weasleys and Sirius appeared in the doorway of the living room. Remus came running down the stairs.

"How dare you! How dare you threat me, you, the vanquisher of the Dark Lord? You shouldn't even be allowed to live, you filthy brat!" Mrs. Black shrieked.

"Tom has returned, so shut up! Shut up, I say!" Harry was fuming by now, and instinct had taken over. The fireball floating in his hand zoomed towards the portrait and hit with a bang, ending the noise of Mrs. Black. The frame was filled with fire, and smoke filled the room as Harry realized what he had done.

He looked at Sirius, worried what the reaction would be. "Sirius, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to – I don't know what happened to me, I'm really sorry," he hurried anxiously as he prepared for the yells from his godfather. Over his shoulder he saw Mrs. Weasley with a thoughtful expression and Ron, who was just staring at him.

They never came. Instead came a wide grin and a hug. "Don't worry, Harry. I'm glad you did. I was sick of her screaming anyway."

Harry sighed in relief and turned to look at the portrait. It was all burned black except for the frame, and it was swinging slightly from side to side before it fell down and hit the floor with a low thud.

"Wow," Remus muttered. "How did you do that, Harry? That was supposed to be a Permanent Sticking charm?"

"I-I don't know, I just... I really have no idea. I was just angry at her for calling you a beast," he said softly.

"Thanks. Now, I suggest we get on with cleaning," Remus said. "Harry, did you do the drawing room?"

"No, I'll do it now."

The twins joined him and told him about their latest ideas for their future joke shop, speaking really low of course, so their mother wouldn't hear. They tried to figure out what most of the things were and Fred and George tried several times to take something they believed useful in their jokes. There was one thing they didn't figure out, though. It was a locket which no one managed to open, neither manually nor with magic. Harry stared at the green S thoughtfully. It seemed familiar in a way, but he couldn't quite place it. He picked it up and studied it thoughtfully.

The realization hit him like a bludger. It was from his vision! What he was holding in his hand was the horcrux! Gasping lowly he clutched his hand around it as if it would run away if he let go of it and then he opened _Darkest Magic of the Dark_ and skimmed the page about horcruxes. There was no method listed in the book other than it had to be some sort of destruction that made it beyond physical and magical repair. Something that kills it without having a method of healing. The first thing that hit his head was the killing curse. Once dead you couldn't return to life again, but this was an object, not a living creature.

"Harry?" Fred's voice tore him out of his train of thoughts.

"Hm?"

"What are you doing?"

Harry hesitated, debating on whether or not to tell them. Finally deciding he waved his hand so the door shut and warded it with a silencing charm. "Read this," he said and handed the book to the twins.

As the two moved further down the page their frowns grew deeper and deeper. When they finally looked at him it was with confusion.

"What do you want with this, Harry? This is really dark magic. You shouldn't mess with that kind of stuff," George said seriously.

"Don't be ridiculous! I'd never do that. I think Tom did, and that that was the reason he survived when the killing curse backfired. And I also believe I've found one of his horcruxes," Harry said, holding up the locket.

Fred and George eyed the locket cautiously for a few moments.

"What are you going to do with it?" Fred asked.

"Destroy it. Once I find a way. I was thinking of the killing curse, but it's an object, not a living creature," Harry said.

"Well, if I'm not entirely mistaken it holds life. Just like a body," George said.

"Why don't you give it a shot?" Fred added.

Glancing at the locket Harry drew a conclusion. "I'd rather not have anyone in the room, then, in case it rebounds. I have no idea how it will react on it."

"Then we'll all be standing in the hallway," Fred persuaded.

Sighing Harry gave in and ended the charm on the door and dropped the locket in the middle of the room. The twins followed him outside and Harry closed the door as much as he could while still fitting his wand through the crack of the door as well as seeing the locket.

He noticed his hand was shaking and took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself as the twins looked out for people.

_Avada kedavra._

A stream of light lit the room in a green light for a short moment before it hit the locket. A horrifying scream filled the house, and Harry cursed lightly, knowing the others would appear shortly. The locket opened, and black smoke emitted from it for several seconds before it stilled. Levitating it Harry brought it closer to look.

"Is it... dead?" Fred muttered as he peered inside over Harry's head.

"I think so," Harry replied softly.

"What is going on here?" the sharp voice of Mrs. Weasley caused them to turn around. Behind her Sirius and Remus appeared, and Ginny, Ron and Hermione lastly.

Harry grabbed the chain of the necklace and held it up. It was burnt black on the inside, and the door was askew on its hinges. He glanced at Remus.

"This was one of Tom's," he said, not wanting to mention horcruxes to the others. Well, maybe Sirius when they were alone. "I destroyed it."

Remus' jaws dropped open. "You destroyed it? How?"

"The killing curse," Harry muttered darkly.

"What!" Mrs. Weasley's shriek caused him to jump, and when she reached forward to grab his shoulder he stepped away, firmly signalizing he did not want contact with her. "How could you! You could get sent in Azkaban for this, Harry!"

"No, I couldn't, ma'am. I could if I had used it on a human, but as far as I know this is not a human," he said, letting the locket dangle in front of her eyes. "Besides, it had to be destroyed."

"But – but... you used magic outside school!"

Harry snorted at that. "Yes. So? I'm not a Hogwarts student, nor am I a British citizen. While the work is many times as difficult at Waratah our privileges are given in equal degree," Harry explained. "I used the same curse on the snake that attacked your husband as well, ma'am."

A mixture of shock and relief appeared on her face, but she didn't question him any further.

"Now that I think about it that snake emitted the same cry as the locket when I killed it..." Harry glanced at Remus, whose amber eyes gleamed in recognition.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, ma'am, I'm going to continue cleaning." With that Harry turned and entered the drawing room again.

When the drawing room was cleaned out Harry joined Ron on one of the second floor bedrooms under the order of Mrs. Weasley while the twins did another one. Harry and Ron worked in silence, gathering all sorts of objects in a heap in the middle of the room. A wardrobe stood in the corner of the room, and as Ron tried to pull out a set of ancient purple robes the clothing suddenly attacked him and wrapped the arms around his neck, attempting to choke him. Harry had to wrestle the sleeves away from him and tied them together to stop it from doing further harm. Then it fell calmly on the heap of rubbish.

"Thanks," Ron muttered.

Harry glanced at him. "You're welcome," he replied before he bent down to pull out some old torn ship sails that had been put away there.

"Look, Harry. I've been an idiot to you, and I'm sorry."

"Why did you change your mind?" Harry asked, hiding all his emotions from reaching his voice.

"That night you saved dad... thanks. I realized you weren't arrogant at all, hell, I don't even know how I got the idea anyway," Ron muttered, his ears red and his gaze glued to the moth-eaten rug.

"I hope you don't expect me to forgive you just by saying you're sorry?" Harry raised a brow quizzically.

"No, I don't. I understand if you don't. I want you to know that I blame myself for you leaving Britain. I heard what the speaker said during the match... that was the reason, wasn'it?"

"Yes, but you're not the only one to blame," Harry replied darkly.

"I know, but I did more than enough," Ron said before he turned back to the wardrobe.

Silence filled the room again as the two boys worked. Ron glanced over at Harry several times when he thought Harry wasn't looking, but Harry ignored it.

"That locket, what was that? Why did you use the killing curse on it?" Ron asked.

Harry hesitated for several seconds, debating on what to tell him. "It was something very dark. Very dangerous. You know about diary that possessed your sister?"

"Yes. How do _you_ know about it? You weren't even there?"

"Fred and George told me parts of what happened. If I'm not entirely mistaken that diary was the same as the locket, one of Tom's..." he didn't finish the sentence. "Do you know how the diary was destroyed?"

"Yeah... Ginny managed to break out for a short moment and threw it at a big snake. At least that's what she said," Ron told him.

Harry leaned towards the ugly green wall, thinking as he stared into the air. "That snake... I think I've heard about it in Magical Creatures. However, it the diary was destroyed, it had to at least hit its mouth in a way... even then I'm surprised it was destroyed. That snake, did it happen to be a basilisk?"

Ron's gaze shot up at him from where he was gathering the last pieces of clothing on the bottom of the wardrobe. "A basilisk? I don't even know what a basilisk is."

"That's a big snake, very big snake. The only antidote for its venom is phoenix tears, which is very rare," Harry explained.

"I don't know. You'll have to ask Ginny, but I doubt she will tell you because she refuses to speak about the incident."

Mrs. Weasley called them down for lunch a couple of hours later. Harry peered in on Kreacher, who was sleeping peacefully, before settling down beside Remus.

"How is Mr. Weasley doing?" Sirius asked.

"The healers said he could leave St. Mungo tomorrow. I plan on bringing him here, so I hoped I could leave the children here," Mrs. Weasley said.

"No problem," Sirius replied, waving his fork carelessly.

"Hey! We're not children!" Fred exclaimed.

"In fact we are seventeen!" George added, his face twisted in annoyance.

"Do I need to remind you what happened this summer when I left you two alone?" Mrs. Weasley sent her two sons a stern gaze.

"That was an accident, mum!" George tried.

"Don't try my patience!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, and the boys fell silent.

Sirius grinned widely. "I'm glad I have a godson who knows how to behave," he said satisfied.

"Even when threatening to burn your arse off?" Harry challenged, raising a brow.

That caused the twins to laugh. "Good one!" George exclaimed.

"What did you do – "

"- to deserve that, Sirius?"

Sirius merely huffed, so Remus took the explanation in his own hands. "Harry has grown a little protective over Kreacher, saying that it's not his fault he's who he is, and Sirius won't accept that, so Harry got angry this morning when Kreacher fell sick and Sirius didn't exactly care."

"What do you mean it's not his fault?" Hermione asked, looking critically at Remus.

Remus glanced at Harry, who sighed heavily. "Kreacher is who he was made to be. He is what the Black family made him to be. He was very loyal to them because they treated him nicely, and thus he also believed in what they believed, that is pureblood supremacy," Harry told her indignantly. "Hogwarts should really include house-elves in their Magical Creatures curriculum," he muttered indignantly.

Mrs. Weasley had made big stacks of sandwiches, but everyone disappeared without problem before everyone continued to clean the house. The second floor was the hardest because of everything that was stuffed inside the master bedroom. On the landing of the third and last floor were only the rooms of Sirius and Regulus.

Harry had thought the Weasleys would leave again in the evening, but instead they were given rooms at Grimmauld Place.

"I have decided to hire expert wizards for the renovation," Sirius said. "The reason is that I want every wall gone as well, not only the tapestry and carpets. Remus and I have drawn a sketch of where the new walls will be erected. Then we are going to choose new tapestry _or_ paint the walls, new floor, new doors and new interior. Oh, I can't wait to get rid of these ugly green Slytherin walls!"

That made everyone laugh heartily.

"Would you rather have Gryffindor red?" Ron offered with a snort.

"Yes! That's a great idea!" Sirius exclaimed.

"I was going to suggest tapestry with brooms and snitches," Harry suggested and grinned playfully.

Remus looked at him, chuckling. "You are spending almost your entire free time on playing Quidditch, how can you not get tired of it?"

"Because it's simply amazing!" Harry exclaimed, staring at the werewolf as if he had missed out a very important piece of information.

"Yes, it is!" Sirius filled in, grinning mischievously. "I mean; Quidditch players get all the hot girls!"

Harry gaped at him and blushed so his cheeks rivalled the Weasleys' hair. "It's not – I mean... that's not why I'm playing!"

The room was filled with laughter.

"No worries, mate," Fred said.

"We couldn't agree more," George filled in.

"Though the girls are a nice bonus."


	23. Chapter 23

Harry was glad he didn't have to share room with Ron as there were enough rooms in the house. When he woke in the morning he still heard his snores from the room across the hall as he walked down to the kitchen. On the landing between first and ground floor he met Kreacher. Whatever he was doing Harry had no idea, though he noticed that the locket he had destroyed yesterday was held protectively between the elf's fingers.

"Good morning, Kreacher," he greeted. "Feeling better today?"

"Yes," Kreacher croaked and looked at him.

"That's good. That locket... I had to destroy it because there were dangerous magic on it. I hope you're not mad at me for it?"

The elf shook his head so the bat-like ears flapped. "Master Regulus asked Kreacher to destroy it. But Kreacher couldn't. Kreacher couldn't follow Master Regulus' wishes. Kreacher had failed as a house-elf," Kreacher muttered.

Harry wasn't sure whether or not he was supposed to hear that. He sat down in the stairs to get on the elf's level. "Listen, Kreacher. You've not failed as a house-elf. No, this locket was close to indestructible. It was very difficult even for me to destroy it. I doubt your master Regulus would have been angry at you," Harry said, recalling the name written in _Darkest Magic of the Dark_. Since the book belonged to Regulus Harry was sure he had known about the difficulty of destroying a horcrux.

Kreacher looked at Harry with big, surprised eyes. "Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to show him the locket. Kreacher did, and he told Kreacher to take the locket and destroy it before he died." He let out a loud sob.

"I'm really sorry that Regulus died, Kreacher. Could you please explain from the beginning?" Harry asked gently. Though confused he hoped that this could help him find the other horcruxes as well.

Kreacher sniffed one more time before he explained how the Dark Lord had requested an house-elf and how Kreacher was brought to a cave and had to drink a potion that made him see things and get thirsty. Then he told Harry of the locket that was placed in a basin with more of the potion, and how Kreacher was left to fend for himself. Kreacher told him that Regulus had asked him to take him back to the cave where he himself drank the potion and died after giving Kreacher to get home and destroy the locket.

"Thank you for telling me this, Kreacher. Regulus was a brave man, wasn't he?" Harry said when Kreacher was done telling.

Kreacher nodded while big tears ran down his cheeks and dripped down on the wooden landing.

"I do believe Regulus wasn't the loyal death eater everyone believed him to be. After all, wanting to destroy the locket could only mean that he wanted to kill the Dark Lord," Harry muttered, causing Kreacher's eyes to open so wide he feared his eye balls would roll out of their sockets.

Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the locket reciting a spell inside his head. "I think Regulus would have wanted you to have it. After all you helped him. I checked the locket; there are no more magic left in it, so it's completely safe."

Suddenly Kreacher started crying. His howls were surely loud enough to wake the entire house. The elf jumped down the stairs to the kitchen while Harry was left on the landing with a confused expression.

"That was very kind of you, Harry."

The voice caused Harry to jump and within a friction of a second he had his wand aimed at... Remus? The werewolf stepped through the door of nearest bedroom.

"Oh. Sorry." He quickly put it away. "Well, about Kreacher I have no idea what happened. He just ran off."

"I think he was happy. So happy he cried," Remus said with small smile.

"Right. You heard everything?"

"Yes. I think Sirius has to rethink his opinion of Regulus."

"So do I," Harry agreed before descending the stairs towards the kitchen.

Kreacher's sobs were still audible through the door, but Harry decided it would be best to leave him alone for a while. The clock had passed nine in the morning, so he started on the breakfast. Within five minutes two frying pans were in action at the same time making omelettes as a spoon was mixing a mixture consisting of berries, rolled oats, nuts, apple juice cinnamon and a few other things to give it taste. With a flick of his hand Harry emptied the bowl on a baking sheet and the whole thing moved into the oven just as Mrs. Weasley appeared in the doorway.

"Good morning!" she chirped happily.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied politely.

"Morning, Molly," Remus said before opening the window for an owl which came with the Prophet.

"Oh, do you want some help, Harry dear?" she asked and hurried over to him.

"No thanks, ma'am. I've got everything under control. Just sit down. It'll be done in twenty minutes."

Mrs. Weasley appeared surprised by this, and it was obviously a new situation for her not being the one cooking breakfast. She dumped down on a vacant chair and watched Harry cooking.

Harry felt a little self-conscious knowing that an experienced chef was watching him as if waiting for him to do a mistake. He tried to ignore it, which turned a bit easier when Hermione entered the room.

"Hello, Hermione. Did you sleep well?" Mrs. Weasley greeted her.

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Ginny will be down soon too; she was awake when I left the room," Hermione told her. "Good morning, professor Lupin, Harry."

"Good morning," Harry replied, offering her a short emotionless glance.

"What are you making?" she asked and stepped over, immediately making him insecure and wary of her intentions.

"Err... omelettes and breakfast cookies," he muttered.

"Oh." She bent down and peered into the oven.

"So, Molly, does Arthur know that it was Harry who saved him?" Remus asked, glancing over the top of the Prophet.

"Yes, I told him. He is extremely thankful. We all are. But Harry, how did you even get into the Ministry?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I flooed, ma'am."

"Flooed?" She raised her brows in wonder. "That shouldn't be possible! Only Ministry workers can floo to the Ministry."

"I don't know, ma'am. Perhaps the magic in the building recognized the danger," Harry offered. "Um... should we wake the others as well? Sirius mentioned that the renovating wizards will be here at eleven, and would probably be best if we were done eating by then?"

"Yes, good idea. I'll do it," Mrs. Weasley said and left the room.

Hermione was still hovering beside him as he folded and stacked the omelettes. She watched curiously how he performed magic; both his hands and his face as if looking for incantations.

"How do you do that? What spells do you use?" she asked suddenly.

"Not one in particular. We've started learning how to use magic without incantations, which is more useful in everyday life instead of remembering a thousand different spells and charms," Harry explained, receiving an "Oh" as a reply before he walked over to Kreacher's room and knocked. "Kreacher, do you want some breakfast? It's ready in ten, so if you want, you can join us at the table."

"Kreacher will. Kreacher thanks Mister Harry Potter," replied the elf's croaky voice.

"You're welcome."

"Why do you ask him to eat with us?" Hermione asked.

"Because I want him to understand that in reality there are no difference between a muggle-born and a pureblood. Would you rather I didn't? After all he lives here, just like Sirius and Remus. I don't feel it's right to deny a resident of the house meals with us even if it's a house-elf. If it had been an animal, I probably would, but a house-elf is no animal," Harry stated firmly, not leaving any room for arguments, and Hermione didn't push it.

A while later everyone was gathered around the table, throwing uneasy looks at Kreacher who had sat down beside Harry before anyone else managed to. No one commented his presence, but they weren't exactly happy to have him there.

Mrs. Weasley had insisted on doing the dishes afterwards, leaving the rest to list up necessary furniture. There were few things that Sirius had wanted to spare; some of them were the books, even Darkest Magic of the Dark after Harry explained the concept of horcruxes to him and their connection to Voldemort. In addition he told him what Kreacher had told Harry about Regulus. Sirius was the only other he trusted with this knowledge except for the twins and Remus, and perhaps Neville.

At eleven a.m. precisely someone knocked on the door, and Sirius moved to the hallway to open. Harry heard three foreign voices commenting the looks of the house as they moved down the stairs to the kitchen.

Sirius was accompanied by three wizards, all in the middle of their twenties. They were waving their wands and seemed to be checking things inside the house as they entered the long kitchen.

"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed one suddenly. "It's Harry Potter!"

Harry looked at the man, blushing, and debated on leaving the room. The other three wizards stared at him with long gazes, making him extremely uncomfortable.

"I saw the Commonwealth Cup final this summer; you're amazing! That dive and that speed - "

"Excuse me, sir, but you are here to renovate this house, not speaking with me," Harry said firmly. He felt he succeeded in bringing out his message when the wizard blushed heavily and lowered his gaze.

Sirius pulled out the drawing he and Remus had made and started to point and explain. After about twenty minutes they seemed satisfied with the information given, that including the wished tapestry, floor and so on.

While the renovation wizards set to work Mrs. Wealsey left for St. Mungo while the Weasley children, Hermione, Harry and Remus joined Sirius for Magical House & Home, which was a nearby furniture store. Harry used the size of the group to his advantage when they entered and hid behind them, not wanting to be recognized.

The store was pretty big, and they had a lot of fun testing out couches, chairs and beds. A few hours later they walked out with the new furniture shrunken down in a bag. Most of them had had their opinions of what kind of furniture Sirius should choose, but as Sirius had his own opinion about most things those wishes weren't fulfilled.

The facade of 12 Grimmauld place hadn't changed, of course, but once they stepped inside a great change was immediately noticed. Firstly, the hall was not long and narrow, but shorter and wider. A door led in to a bigger hall in pale cream yellow with the staircase and a door to a grand living room in red and gold – of course. The carpet was scarlet red with patterns of cold, and the old flaky fireplace had been refurbished.

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed. "That's a change!"

"Indeed," Remus agreed.

Harry climbed up the stairs to see the upper floors, and found the dining room closest to the landing on first floor, a bathroom, a couple of bedrooms and a big empty room that Harry didn't quite figure what was.

"The library," Sirius explained. "It was Remus' wish."

"Oh."

"And I also requested a room for his transformation on the third floor with enchantments that would hold him from escaping during full moon," Sirius told him before they continued up the stairs to the second floor.

There were only bedrooms except for another bathroom, while the third floor, like Sirius had said, there was an empty room with soft rugs and heavily warded doors and walls. Beside it was the master bedroom in the famous Gryffindor colours.

The kitchen had lost its cavernous impression and was warmer and more inviting. A small room for Kreacher was still there, and while he still had the old rags from the old house he didn't appear as angry as Harry had predicted.

"Master Sirius has destroyed the mistress' house," he grumbled, but was ignored as the renovating wizards were sitting by the old table.

Having watched Sirius pick out a new table Harry knew that old one would be gone pretty soon.

"What do you think, Mr. Black?" asked one of the wizards.

"It's great. I'll make sure to owl Gringotts about the money," Sirius said.

"That's good. Well, if that's everything, we'll be going. We have a mission in Applecross."

"Yes, thank you," Sirius replied as he placed the bag of furniture on the kitchen table.

The three wizards left, and under Sirius' guidance the furniture was placed in the house and enlarged. Sirius hadn't kept any of the portraits or china; his hatred for his family had driven him to destroy everything that would remind him of them and replaced by new things – except for Kreacher.

Just as Sirius was enlarging the couch in the living room the fireplace flared up and Mrs. Weasley stepped out, shortly followed by Mr. Weasley.

"Daddy!" Ginny exclaimed and embraced him suddenly.

"Hi, sweetheart! Merlin's beard! What has happened here?" he wondered as he looked over her shoulder.

"We have been renovating," Ron said with a grin.

"Well, I can see that!" Mr. Weasley said, his eyes surveying the room. At last it landed on Harry, who was standing sort of behind Remus. "Harry!" Mr. Weasley walked over with a humble smile on his face and his arm outstretched. "Thank you so much for saving my life. Molly told me. How can I ever repay you?"

Harry politely grabbed his hand, but startled at the last question. "No, no, Mr. Weasley. I don't want to be repaid for it. Anyone else would have done the same if they had known."

"Not everyone. Death eaters certainly wouldn't," Sirius reminded him and patted his shoulder. "It was a very good and brave thing you did there."

Mr. Weasley frowned as he seemed to remember something. "I believe... I believe that wizarding Britain has wronged you, Harry, and for that I'm sorry." He paused, and Harry stared at him incredulously.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You are not the arrogant spoiled brat the Prophet and the people believed you to be. Ron, I hope you apologized?" Mr. Weasley sent his youngest son a stern look.

"Yes, dad. I did yesterday."

"Good. That only leaves the rest of Britain."


	24. Chapter 24

The house was fully furnished by dinner, and Mrs. Weasley had not spared on her cooking. It was more close to a feast than a normal dinner. Even so Harry asked Kreacher to eat with them.

"Kreacher is not eating food made by blood-traitors. No, Kreacher will not," he muttered.

Harry sat down beside him in the staircase between first and second floor. "There is no wrong with supporting muggles. They are just as much humans as Regulus and I," Harry said. "If you saw a muggle-born beside a pureblood you couldn't have told the difference anyway. And just look at Hermione. She is the smartest witch in her year, and she is a muggleborn. There is nothing wrong with that," Harry said calmly. "So, supporting a muggle or a muggleborn isn't wrong at all. Muggles are just born without a magical core, just like I am born with green eyes and you with blue. No human or creature is the same. Not even the twins are a hundred percent similar."

Kreacher looked at him with consideration before stood and climbed up the stairs. Harry sighed lowly and made his way down to the kitchen. He guessed the elf needed some time to think. After all he had been raised to think that anything associated with muggles were wrong, and now he was asked to throw away everything he had learned through his life.

"Didn't you get him?" Sirius asked, hiding a smug smile behind a mug of juice.

"No. I explained some things to him, and he probably needs some time to think," Harry said and sat down by the new, lacquered wooden table.

"So, Harry, any more Quidditch matches soon?" Mr. Weasley asked, drawing attention from everyone except Remus, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley.

"Not others than those in the tournament, sir," Harry replied politely.

"We saw Krum playing in the World Cup. You think you can beat him?" Mr. Weasley inquired curiously.

"I'm not sure, sir. Maybe. He's a very talented flyer, and he's very fast once he sees the snitch. He will certainly not be an easy match." Harry shoved a fork with mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"I thought Viktor would be too old to play since he was on his last year during the Triwizard Tournament," Hermione said.

"He told me he had to redo a year. I don't believe it. I believe Karkaroff has asked him to play because they're afraid to lose," Harry said.

"Makes sense," Remus muttered.

"I don't like this Karkaroff," Fred said.

"He gave Cedric a four for a perfect bubble-head charm – "

" - and ten for Krum's half done shark transformation!"

"He's a coward too if he asks Krum to play in fear of losing."

Harry snorted. "I think we should be careful around him. He's a death eater after all."

People around the table stared at him. "How do you know?"

"He was there... after Tom was reborn." Harry let his gaze drift across the confused faces of the Weasleys. "You mean you don't know that Riddle is back?"

"Tom? Riddle? Is that the same who possessed Ginny a few years back?" Mr. Weasley wondered.

Ginny paled considerably and nodded. "Is... Is he You-Know-Who?" she nearly whispered and looked at Harry.

"Yes."

After that the room grew uncomfortably silent. The thought about horcruxes had again popped up in Harry's head at the mention of the diary. He wondered what other objects could be the other horcruxes. He had one of six, but there was a nagging feeling inside him that insisted that the number of six was wrong. Like a voice whispering into his ear.

There had been a locket, but the locket hadn't been much of a hint at all, other than carrying the serpentine letter S, which could mean anything. Then there was Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Hufflepuff was one of the founders at Hogwarts, Harry knew that well enough, but why had Voldemort chosen an object from Hufflepuff? Her house wasn't exactly the most prestigious and desired house at Hogwarts.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Kreacher climbed up on the vacant chair beside him and joined them for the meal.

Harry stared absentmindedly at the Christmas tree that had been brought in and decorated with all sorts of strange things. A book named _Plants and Herbs of the Myths_ rested on his lap, still unopened. Fred and George's charmed Santa figure was singing carols which were audible wherever you went in the house. The two creators chose the moment to appear in the couch beside Harry.

"Hey."

"What are you doing?"

Harry glanced at them. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

The twins looked from him to the and back. "Trying to read without opening the book?" Fred offered.

"Watching the fairies having a quickie in the Christmas tree?" George suggested.

"What?" Harry stared at George in surprise. "In the Christmas tree?"

"Yes, of course. They love the Christmas trees," Fred said with a grin.

"Anyway, I was thinking about the horcruxes. I really have no idea where the others might be," Harry said with a sigh.

"Well, we know about the locket and Hufflepuff's goblet. He doesn't have any family in Hufflepuff you think?" Fred asked. "I mean since he made Hufflepuff's goblet a horcrux. Of course, he could have just picked something randomly."

Harry frowned. "I doubt that. The horcruxes are too important for him. Besides, he put one in his diary, and I doubt there was any coincidence with the locket either. I'm pretty sure it has some sort of value for him."

"Like Fred said, maybe it has a family connection? What do you know about his family anyway?" George wondered.

"I know nothing more than that his father's name was Tom Riddle. Are you suggesting we should investigate it?"

"Yeah. The Ministry probably has a register of every wizard since it was founded, or perhaps there are some archives at Hogwarts? If he went there, that is. It wouldn't surprise me if he went to Durmstrang," Fred said.

Harry stared pensively into the air for a few seconds. "That might be a good idea. Do you know where we can find those archives? Hogwarts could be a place to start. I doubt it would be easy to get something from the Ministry."

The twins' eyes lit up suddenly, and Fred ran out of the room with an "I'll get it!"

"Get what?" Harry asked confused.

"You'll see."

Fred soon returned with a piece of parchment in his hand. He handed it to Harry, who stared at it in confusion. "This is a blank parchment," he stated and looked from Fred to George and back.

George just grinned and pointed his wand at it. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," he said.

Then a few ink spots appeared on the parchment and grew until they formed letters: _Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs are proud to present the Marauders Map._ Fred unfolded it to reveal a complete floor plan of Hogwarts with several spots moving around with name tags such as Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

"This... shows... everyone?" Harry asked.

"Everyone."

"Where they are."

"What they're doing."

"Every minute."

"Of every day."

"Wicked!" Harry exclaimed, grinning. "Is the archive on this map?"

"We don't know, but it might be in this second room behind Dumbledore's office," Fred said and pointed, "as this other is his private chamber."

"Wait... the names..." Harry folded the map again and stared at the letters on the front. "Dad and Sirius and Remus made this."

"And Pettigrew, of course, but we choose to ignore him," George said.

"Remus and Sirius might know what is in that room if they were able to make this map," Harry said and glanced over to them. They were occupying a chair each in the other end of the living room.

"Really?"

"Are you serious?" George asked mockingly.

"Someone said my name?" Sirius called with a grin.

"Could you and Remus come over here, please?" Harry requested, and the two men did so.

"What's up, pup?" Sirius bent over the back of the couch and as he recognized the map his eyes widened. "Where did you get that?"

"Nicked it from Filch's office – "

"In our first year," Fred and George filled in.

"Were taken to his office for setting off a Dung Bomb."

Sirius grinned like a mad. "I approve!" He exclaimed.

"Anyway," Harry interrupted as he surrounded them with a silencing charm. "We want to know if you know if there's any archives at Hogwarts that lists the students through the years?"

Remus frowned at the inquiry. "Why do you want to know that?"

"Because it might say anything about Riddle. I – we want to know more about his family to hopefully find the other horcruxes." Harry explained.

"Oh. Well, as far as I know there are no archive rooms there. The closest would be the Trophy room. You can either check there or in the library," Remus said.

"What about this room? Behind Dumbledore's office?" Harry asked and pointed.

Remus hesitated for a while. "I know that the other one is his private chamber, but what the other room is I have no idea. Do you, Padfoot?"

"No. I'd like to know what that old man is hiding in there though."

"We are going to find that out once we return to Hogwarts," George said firmly.

"Good thing I've got two weeks of January free," Harry said. "Originally I was thinking to maybe join some classes at Hogwarts if I was allowed, just to get some more practice with tutoring."

The twins frowned. "You want to do school work during your holiday?"

"Oh, that reminds me of my homework!" With that Harry ran off to get his books, not hearing Sirius' muttered words: "He reminds me of you at the moment, Moony."

A couple of hours later found Harry by the kitchen table, bent over his school books and parchment. Hermione had joined him as soon as she had found him doing homework, and was seated opposite him.

"What subject are you doing, Harry?" she asked.

"Runes," he muttered absently as he drew the symbols on the parchment.

She looked at him with surprise. "You take runes too? It's really a fascinating subject, isn't it? I mean, all these strange symbols and the challenge to figure out what they mean!" she chatted eagerly.

Harry glanced at her. "Runes are okay, I guess, but I do prefer Herbology," he muttered before turning back. He had at least a foot more to write, so he didn't want to waste time on talk right now.

Hermione seemed to get the hint because she returned to her own homework, leaving Harry alone. That was until Ron entered.

"You should get started with your homework as well, Ronald," she told him.

"We aren't even halfway through and you start talking about homework. There's still a lot of time, Hermione," he said and snagged one of Mrs. Weasley's newly baked Christmas cookies before fleeing the kitchen.

Not even Fred and George was let out of her nagging, but in contrast to Ron they actually did as she said.

"After all Harry might help us," Fred said, shrugging.

"Harry's in fifth year. You're in seventh. He can't possibly help you then!" Hermione declared knowingly.

The twins laughed at her. "Waratah is not Hogwarts, as Harry says himself," George said before running after his brother upstairs to get their books.

Harry managed to get done with his five feet long essay by the time the twins got down. It had taken him many hours to get it done, and he was quite satisfied with himself as he stretched it out to measure it.

Hermione eyed it with wonder when he did. "That's pretty long," she commented.

Harry glanced at her across the table. "I suppose. I doubt I can make better than an E at most of it, though," Harry said.

"May I read it?" she asked.

After a moment of hesitation he handed it to her and grabbed another scroll of parchment that he had placed on the table earlier as well as his copy of Potions for experts by Nicky Jones. Professor McCay hadn't been gentle when he had handed out the homework of a four feet long comparison of the Sphinx's Secret, the Living Darkness Draught and the Mercury's Blue Moon Potion. He had just written the title when the twins returned with their arms full of books, parchments, quills and ink.

Hermione didn't even look up, but read through Harry's essay before she handed it back. "I don't understand any of it! It has to be a different alphabet than what we have been working with!" she exclaimed.

Harry looked at her. "Is that wrong?" He asked dryly and snatched it back before rolling it up.

"No! No, it's not." Even if she denied it Hermione didn't look like she did really did.

Harry just shrugged and turned back to his essay. He managed to keep writing for nearly half an hour before Fred nudged him.

"Harry? Have you ever worked with a snargaluff plant?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. Did that a year ago. Dylan and I shared one, and it tried to tear his robes off him," Harry told them with a grin. "Nasty buggers, they are."

"Indeed. We did them last year, doing repetition now. Our assignment says to discuss the dangers of working with it, but we think we have misunderstood something." Fred shoved his essay towards Harry who skimmed it quickly under Hermione's curious gaze.

"Oh, yeah!" Harry exclaimed as he noticed the mistake and went on explaining for the twins.

When he was done they stared at him with awe. "Herbology really is your subject, isn't it?"

"Yes, second only to defence," Harry said with a faint blush. "But did you understand what went wrong?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Harry!"

"You're welcome."


	25. Chapter 25

"My dear cousin is coming tonight to celebrate Christmas with us!" Sirius said happily as he dipped his finger into the bowl of cream Harry was making for the Pavlova for dessert after the Christmas dinner they were having later that day.

"Padfoot! Keep your fingers away or I'll have to put on a charm to prevent you from touching!" Harry exclaimed.

Sirius merely sent him a raised brow as Mr. Weasley laughed from the end of the table. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes, you said your cousin would come for Christmas. Well, I don't know which cousin you are speaking about, but I certainly don't hope it's Bellatrix," Harry replied.

"No! Why would I invite her? No, you'll see when she arrives in a couple of hours," Sirius said.

"Molly is hoping she would fall in love with Bill. She thinks it's about time he gets married and settles down," Mr. Weasley commented.

"As if. Tonks only sees Moony," Sirius said.

"And does he see her?" Mr. Weasley challenged.

"No, don't think so. Harry, you don't know how to conjure a mistletoe, do you?" Sirius asked mischievously.

Harry glanced at him with a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" Sirius inquired. "Do you or do you not?"

"I don't want to be the one to be the target of Moony's anger if he finds out," Harry said. "Are Bill and Charlie coming too, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes, they both got a few days off from work, so they'll be here shortly."

Tonks was the first to arrive; a pink-haired witch who stumbled out of the fireplace and would have landed on the floor hadn't Remus caught her.

"Thanks, Remus," she said, blushing slightly.

Sirius sniggered from the doorway and received an annoyed glare from Remus.

Harry glanced up from the game of exploding snap he was playing with Ginny, the twins and Ron. Hermione was watching, the book in her lap untouched.

"Hi, Tonks," the Weasleys greeted. They had obviously met her before.

"Votcher, guys," she replied with a kind smile.

"Tonks, meet my fantastic godson, Harry," Sirius said as proud as uncle Vernon was after a good Quidditch match.

"Harry! Nice to meet you at last. Sirius has told me so much about you," she said, holding out a hand. "So this is the famous Harry Potter, huh? I've heard about your matches. Quite a feat of a fourteen-year-old."

Harry stood politely and grabbed it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, miss Tonks," he said, feeling his cheeks go red by her comments.

"Call me Tonks, will you? No need to be so formal!" she declared. "So how is my lovely cousin?"

Harry was forced to return to the game when George was prodding him tirelessly. They were however interrupted not much later by the floo flaring up again, and a stocky man with powerful arms covered with burns stepped out, more controlled than Tonks.

"Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, and the man, Charlie, was quickly embraced by two redheads; Mrs. Weasley and Ginny.

"It's so great to see you, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said and petted his cheek. "Are you okay? No more burns?"

"I'm okay, mum, only a small one on my stomach. Damn, that new Aussie Red can almost rival the Fireballs," he muttered.

"Let me see," Mrs. Weasley demanded and lifted his shirt while pushing away his hands which tried to keep it down.

"Mum, not in the middle of the living room!" he protested.

Mrs. Weasley ignored it and gasped as a nasty red burn came into view. "Oh Charlie! Does it hurt very much?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not much now," he said and pulled down his shirt before surveying the people in the room. "Hey. Nice to see you all healthy and strong."

"Well, that's more than what we can say about you," Mrs. Weasley scolded. "How could you be so careless?"

"I wasn't careless! Have you ever heard of an Aussie Red? They're almost as ferocious as the Horntails! Besides, their burns heal incredibly slowly!" Charlie exclaimed and sat down in a couch beside Harry, whom he hadn't seemed to notice yet.

"Sirius, do you have any healing salve for burns?" Mrs. Weasley asked and glanced at him.

"No. Why would I have that? I usually don't have the need for it," Sirius replied.

"I have some," Remus said and got up.

Harry had been watching the conversation with interest. He was familiar with the Aussie Red as they had learned about it in Magical Creatures and Dylan talked about them all the time. Now he chose the moment to interrupt.

"A normal healing salve won't help on a burn from an Aussie Red," he said softly.

Remus paused and looked at him. "How do you know?"

Harry didn't manage to answer before Mrs. Weasley fired another question at him: "Then what helps?"

"Usually an extract of the flowers of Jeerigo bushes will do," Harry said.

"Jerri- what?" Mrs. Weasley asked, just as confused as the others in the room.

"Jeerigo bushes. They're native to the Australian outback, where also the Aussie Reds origin from," Harry explained. "If we are lucky I brought some here..."

He dashed upstairs to his room and rummaged in his trunk for the chest holding potions ingredients. There he found a jar holding the small, sunset orange flowers and went down to the kitchen where he heated water and placed five flowers into it. He was soon accompanied by curious eyes, especially Mrs. Weasley's.

Soon the water got a clear yellow colour, and Harry transferred the liquid and the flowers to a bowl and handed it to Mrs. Weasley, who handed it on to Charlie, who then again was about to drink it.

"No! Stop!" Harry exclaimed, and the next moment the bowl was floating in the air a foot above their heads. "Don't drink it! Never eat anything of a Jeerigo bush! It'll cause your respiratory system to collapse."

"Damn it, Harry, you could have said that a little earlier," Charlie complained.

"Well, I thought it was obvious," Harry muttered.

"Harry, we've never heard about a Jeerigo bush. How were we supposed to know?" Remus asked gently.

"Oh. Sorry. It's just a little weird... I mean, in Australia everyone knows the dangers of that plant, and no one questions it because it's so well-known and... I'm sorry," Harry bent his head in shame and stared at the floor.

"It's okay, Harry. No harm done," Charlie assured him. "I'm well aware of cultural changes myself. But then what are we supposed to do with it?"

"Clean the wound with it of course."

"Go and lay down on the couch, Charlie. I'll get a cloth and be with you in a moment," Mrs. Weasley said and disappeared out of the kitchen.

"Harry, it might be an idea to lower the bowl," Remus suggested carefully.

Harry looked up at the bowl which was still hovering above them. "Right. Sorry." He summoned the bowl until it was safely between his hands and then followed the others to the living room.

As soon as the extract touched the wound it started to heal, and within a few minutes the wound was gone and only a faint scar was left.

"Wow. That's strong stuff," Charlie muttered.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"How do we get those sorts of plants? They would be very useful in a dragon reserve."

"They only work on Aussie Red burns, no other. And we usually don't export plants and creatures native to Australia, so how you got that dragon is beyond me. Did someone sell it to you illegally?" Harry inquired.

Charlie looked at him with a startled expression. "Really? It's illegal? I don't know how it got there; I'm only taking care of it."

"Well, it shouldn't be there. It's way too cold. It can't survive in December in Romania," Harry told him.

Charlie frowned and then moved over to the fireplace. "I've got to floo the reserve," he said and threw a handful of floo powder into the crackling fire before following with his head and shoulders after calling the name of the reserve.

The living room then turned silent for a while, with only the charmed Santa's songs breaking the silence.

"How do you know all of this, Harry?" Ron asked cautiously.

"I've learned it. The trade is common knowledge for Australian wizards, and the survival skills of the Aussie Red is kind of obvious. Take Alice Springs for instance, in the middle of the Australian Outback. In December it would have a temperature of between twenty five to thirty degrees Celsius on average, and when being used to that it experiences a Romanian December with a temperature below zero," Harry explained, receiving nods from the others.

"You're into dragons?" Hermione asked.

"Not really, but Dylan, my dorm mate speaks about them all the time," Harry told her.

Soon enough Charlie pulled out of the fireplace and returned to the couch. "Thanks for telling, Harry. We only want the best for the dragons. Might be best to leave the Aussie Reds to the Australian breeders though."

"Yeah. That might be the best idea," Harry muttered.

Bill, a tall man with his long red hair in a ponytail and a fang earring, arrived a couple of hours later. By then Mrs. Weasley had began making dinner, and Harry, Hermione and the youngest Weasleys had been asked to help, which some did without problem and others did while grumbling in dismay.

The new arrivals stared with big eyes at Kreacher when he climbed into a chair beside Harry.

"Kreacher is not mad at Mister Harry Potter for destroying the Mistress' house. Kreacher likes the cake Mister Harry Potter has made, oh yes." The elf spoke so low that only those closest to him could make out the words. While his words were kind he threw the Weasleys cold looks, but no longer as nasty as they had been.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry muttered in reply.

That evening Harry realized that he had to share his room. He hoped he didn't have to share with Ron as he didn't trust him well enough to be comfortable to sleep around him. He discreetly mentioned this to Sirius when he got the chance. He simply asked Bill to share room with him instead.

When Harry woke the next morning snow was covering the window which showed the street outside. He glanced over to Bill's tall form which was almost completely hidden under the duvet before he dressed and silently left the room.

Downstairs he met an impatient Ron pacing in the living room in front of stacks of Christmas presents. Mrs. Weasley's stern look was the only thing that kept him from opening them.

Hermione was sitting in a chair with a book opened on her lap; Harry didn't bother to ask which book it was, and instead continued down towards the kitchen. Remus was sitting by the table, flicking through the Daily Prophet, and Tonks, who was on her way towards him with a can of coffee in her hand. Suddenly her foot collided with a chair and she lost her balance, causing her to fall forwards. Remus, acting with a surprising speed caught her before she hit the ground, but the coffee already covered the floor.

"Oh! Thank you, Remus," she said and supported herself on his shoulder as she regained her balance.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smile.

She met his gaze, and they held it for several seconds with a strange look each before Remus broke it. Harry looked from her to him in slight confusion before his mind caught up with him and he recalled what Sirius had said.

Tonks sighed. "Now I have to make a new can of coffee," she said and pulled out her wand, muttering a cleaning spell. It only took the worst, leaving an area still brown.

"Here, let me," Harry said and merely waved his hand. The floor was clean in a blink of an eye.

"Wow," she muttered.

"Indeed," Remus agreed and stood. "I'll go to the living room, make sure Sirius hasn't opened all his presents before we're gathered."

Harry chuckled as he watched the werewolf disappear up the stairs. A new sigh brought his attention back to Tonks again. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, it's just... I'm a clumsy person, almost failed stealth and tracking in my auror training because of it, but when he's around it gets even worse," she admitted in a depressed voice.

"Have you told him?" Harry asked as he opened the window for an own that had landed outside. It jumped in and stretched out its leg.

"Yes, but he claims he's too old, too poor and too dangerous," she replied as she started to make a new can of coffee.

"What do you think about that?"

"I don't care if he's not rich, or that he's a little older than me or that he's a werewolf!"

"Then tell him."

Harry untied the letter and the small package which accompanied it and checked the recipient. His name was written on the envelope, and Waratah's stamp was placed on the backside. Why would they send a letter to him already? The booklist wasn't supposed to arrive before mid-January. Curiously he opened the letter and pulled out the piece of parchment inside.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I wanted you to be the first to know, since you were the one who found the Dragontongue Fern, and you mentioned that you have a werewolf friend; the anti-werewolf potion is done. It was tested on Kevin Allen, and it went just as we had hoped. Mr. Allen was sick for two days, throwing up blood to get rid of the werewolf blood, and had fever, but nothing happened at full moon, not even the slightest hint of transformation, and we did a magical test to ensure the werewolf curse was gone, and it was._

_I sent a bottle of the potion with this letter as I'm sure you'd ask for it anyway. It can be taken any day except for the day of the full moon, and everything has to be drunk._

_Merry Christmas,_

_Potions master Robert Kensington._

_A/N: If there's anything you're wondering about or just want to say, just PM me._


	26. Chapter 26

Harry felt his smile grow wider and wider as he read through the letter, and when he reached the end he ran upstairs to the living room.

"Moony!" he exclaimed, dragging Remus' attention away from Sirius, who was staring longingly at the presents.

"What's going on, cub?" Remus asked.

With a wide grin Harry handed him the parchment and watched with glee as the incredulousness appeared in his face.

"It's... It's... This is amazing, Harry!" he cried hand quickly swept him into a hug, ignoring the curious looks from the others. "You have the potion, right?"

Harry quickly opened the package. "Here. When's next full moon?"

"Two weeks. This is... incredible! I can't believe it!" Remus rubbed his face, which was looking five years younger already.

"What?" Demanded Hermione; she had finally looked up from her book. "What's going on?"

"The Australians have made an anti-werewolf potion," Remus said with a grin.

"You're joking!" Hermione said, staring at him with critical eyes.

"No! Thanks to Harry, who found the key ingredient." Once more Harry found himself in a tight embrace with Remus.

"Something not even Snivellus managed," Sirius commented with a mischievous grin.

"What ingredient would that be?" Hermione asked.

"The Dragontongue Fern," Harry told her.

Hermione frowned. "I've never heard about that one."

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed. "First time Hermione Granger doesn't know something!"

Hermione glared at him before turning back to Harry. "Can you tell me about it?"

"Uh, well, it's very rare, and it is a very strong magical plant, so if it comes in the hands of the wrong person some really horrifying potions might be created. But so far only Waratah has them domesticated, not even the Brazilian herbologists have them even though it's found in the Amazon. I was very lucky to find it," Harry said with a weak smile.

Mrs. Weasley stared at him with wide opened eyes. "You were in the Amazon? In the rainforest? Do you know how dangerous that could be with all those sorts of animals and insects and such."

Harry frowned. "We used protection charms against insects and frogs and such, and the jaguar was really no problem. We saw some once or twice, but they didn't stay to wait for us."

"Did you see lions?" Ron exclaimed eagerly.

"There aren't lions in Brazil. Only in Africa. We haven't been there yet," Harry explained and sat down in a couch. "Remus, you should probably wait with taking the potion to another day if you don't want to spend the Christmas being sick."

"I'd gladly spend the Christmas being sick if that meant I didn't have to be a werewolf anymore. But I can wait until tomorrow," Remus said.

"Harry, you mentioned _we_," Hermione changed subject again. "Who are _we_?"

"Me and my dorm mates," Harry said nonchalantly. "Dylan, Marcus, Jonathan and Julian."

"A group of fifteen year old boys alone in the Amazon!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, sounding horrified. "Who are your parents!"

Harry frowned at that. "As you might know, ma'am, my parents are dead," He said coolly, causing Mrs. Weasley to freeze upon realization.

"Harry, I'm so sorry – "

"You don't have to be worried about me or my friends going to the Amazon or wherever else we want to go, ma'am. We do a heavy research on protection spells and always bring antidotes to about every poisonous animals in the area we are going to visit. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let me go if she hadn't been comfortable with my knowledge and abilities," Harry said.

"But I thought your aunt hated you? That's what Ron said."

Harry threw a glance at Ron, who sank lower in his chair, dreading the reaction. "Really? Then I guess he forgot that Dudley almost beat him up after the match against England?"

Mrs. Weasley paled slightly and glanced at Ron.

"Good morning!" sounded a cheery call from the doorway.

"Merry Christmas! You think there are any pressies for us, Gred?"

"I don't know, Forge. Shall we see?"

The twins made their ways over to the stacks of presents in front of the Christmas tree as Charlie's broad figure stepped into the room, stretching so his shirt slid up and his stomach was revealed. Harry was sure he caught a flicker of a dragon tail the short moment bare skin was visible.

"So, what's going on? Already started on the presents?" he asked and dumped down in a vacant chair.

"Not yet, though the twins are trying," Mrs. Weasley grumbled.

Not much later everyone had woken and people started to open their presents. Harry got a book – _How to survive twenty days in Antarctica_ from Sirius, a Sneakoscope from Remus and a box of strange candy from Ron.

"What are Fizzing Whizzbees?" Harry asked.

He was met with a look of surprise. "You don't know what Fizzing Whizzbees are? It's candy, of course!"

"Oh. Well, how should I know? We don't have Fizzing Whizzbees in Australia," Harry replied as he studied the box.

"Then what do you have?" Ron wondered.

"The normal stuff... you know; liquorice taipans, Chocaroos, Maroochi fudge and such," Harry said casually and examined a liquorice wand. "Is it firejuice inside these too?" he wondered.

"Firejuice?" Ron asked, looking even more confused.

"Yeah? Like in the liquorice taipans?"

"Um... no? I don't even know what firejuice is," Ron said.

"It's a strong non-alcoholic liquid inside the liquorice taipans. It's supposed to be a candy version of venom, so when you suck on the head it comes out," Harry explained.

"Oh. And what are Chocaroos?"

"Kangaroo shaped chocolate that jumps around until you catch them and bite off their legs."

"Like Chocolate frogs? You remember from the train ride in our first year?"

Harry looked pensive for a while, and then he nodded. "I remember those, I think. There are cards with them?" He picked up a box of chocolate frogs and studied it.

"Yep."

Harry also got a book about Defence Against the Dark Arts and a study planner from Hermione, but when he flicked through the book he realized that he knew most of it. He thanked her anyway. Neville had sent him some enchanted self-watering flowerpots, Jonathan had given him a book, clearly hinting their next trip; _Secrets of the Congo Basin_, and Marcus' gift was a framed photo of Harry, Marcus, Dylan, Julian and Jonathan in the Amazon. A thick photo album was what he got from Dylan. It was half filled with photos from their time together; whether on school, during trips or at a Quidditch match. He had also written a short description beside each photo. From Julian he got a shrinkable terrarium with freezing charms that would work perfect for the ice roses if he found them. Aunt Petunia had sent him a big box of homemade macadamia and chocolate fudge from the Dursleys.

Mrs. Weasley quickly disappeared down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, and in the corner of his eye Harry saw Tonks pulling Remus out of the living room and up the stairs. He smiled smugly and turned to examine the terrarium Julian had gotten for him.

People were in good mood, and even Kreacher appeared to be less grumpy than normal the few times he was seen. He was still very critical towards the Weasleys and Hermione, but at least no one heard him calling them bad things.

Remus and Tonks were gone for longer periods at a time, and Sirius spent the chance to tease his friend.

"Finally gave in, did you?" he nudged Remus in the ribs with his elbow.

"Yeah... Tonks managed to convince me..." Remus replied and threw a short glance at Harry.

"Well, at least you can't complain about being dangerous when you've gotten that potion," Sirius said.

Remus nodded and smiled. "I'll take it tomorrow."

"What are the side effects of it? Is he going to grow claws?" Sirius joked and looked at Harry.

"No, no side effects. He'll be throwing up werewolf blood for two days and have fever, though," Harry replied.

"Throw up blood?" Sirius frowned. "You think we need a blood-replenishing potion?"

"Maybe. If we are damn lucky now I might have that bottle we brought to the Amazon," Harry thought out loud. "There was never any use for it."

Later that day Harry pulled Mr. Weasley aside and surrounded them with a silencing charm.

"Can I help you, Harry?" he asked with a frown as he noticed the charm.

"I hope you can. Does the Ministry have files about every wizard in Britain?" Harry wondered.

Mr. Weasley hesitated. "Yes, I would think so. I believe it's not very complete during the 1600s, as it was pretty new and unstructured. How so?"

"I want to ask you to do me a favour. Is it possible for you to get hold of any files related to the name Riddle?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at him.

"I... I can try," Mr. Weasley said.

"That would be great. Thanks."


	27. Chapter 27

The first of January Harry bid the Weasleys, Remus and Sirius goodbye and grabbed a portkey to Wattle avenue, and then flooed to Cockatoo Island Stadium.

"Hey Harry! How are you?" Mr. Weber asked cheerfully as he entered the locker rooms.

"I'm great, sir, Harry replied.

"And how did the games go?"

"We won against Hogwarts so far. I'm a bit nervous to play against Durmstrang, though. They've got Viktor Krum."

Mr. Weber raised his brows. "Really? Then we better prepare you well for it these two weeks."

Harry nodded in agreement and went to change.

After a day containing two practices from nine to twelve and from one to four Harry was allowed to go home for the day, and with a low pop he appeared outside the Dursleys' house in number 25 Johnson Road and found uncle Vernon's car standing outside. So he must be home from work already, Harry decided and knocked a few times on the door and entered with his trunk and Hedwig's cage in his hands.

It didn't seem like they had heard him knocking, so he left his things by the stairs to take upstairs later and moved towards the kitchen. He found aunt Petunia by the sink, doing the dishes while she hummed on a tune.

"Hi," he said, causing her to jump.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, quickly dried her hands on a towel and hurried over to hug him. "Welcome home! How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks. And you, aunt Petunia?"

"I'm fine." Grabbing his cheeks she studied his face, and then her gaze travelled down his body. "You haven't stopped growing yet!"

Harry smiled weakly. "I have to get myself a new set of robes, so I guess I have."

She let go of him with a smile. "You should go and say hello to Dudley and Vernon. They're in the living room with aunt Marge."

"Aunt Marge?" Harry repeated and looked at her incredulously.

"Yes, she celebrated Christmas with us and decided to stay for another week," aunt Petunia said.

Harry sighed and aimed towards the living room and found Marjorie Dursley's big figure in the couch, hugging a slightly annoyed Dudley while talking to uncle Vernon. He let out a snort at Dudley's exasperated expression, which caused him to turn.

"Harry! How was Christmas?" He greeted with a sudden grin and wriggled out of his aunt's arms, who turned to scowl at Harry.

"Great. The Weasleys celebrated with us, though. Well, Ron found the decency to apologize, and changed behaviour after I saved his father," Harry said.

"You mentioned something like that in a letter. Just tell me if he does something, and I'll get my boxing gloves," Dudley said and wringed his hands with glee.

Harry laughed, and his attention was caught by uncle Vernon.

"You come straight from practice, Harry?" he asked.

"Yeah. Have been practicing all day. Mr. Weber insists on making me ready for Krum," he told him.

"What is Krum?" aunt Marge barked and stared at Harry with look of disbelief.

"He is one of my competitors, ma'am," Harry replied stiffly.

"In what? Games for goose heads?" She let out a laugh that reminded Harry of Hagrid's three-headed dog.

"No, ma'am," Harry said.

Uncle Vernon shot in: "It's one of the most popular games played down here, and he's on the national team." He smiled proudly as he continued to brag about Harry, who flushed heavily.

Dudley laughed at that. "So, how long are you staying, Harry?" he wondered and got up from the couch. He was taller than Harry by an inch or so, and almost as tall as aunt Petunia.

"Just two weeks. I've got something important to look up, so I'll be using the last two weeks of the holiday for that," Harry replied.

"Oh, okay."

Harry was not surprised to find aunt Marge's bulldog Ripper in the house, but he didn't go near him during the hours at home. Luckily both of them left a week later, and Petunia pulled out her aquarium of water herbs as soon as she saw uncle Vernon's car leave to take aunt Marge to the airport.

Harry spent a lot of his free time doing homework until the day of departure. By then he was tired from all the training, but managed to do a trip to Wattle Avenue to get new robes, school books and other necessary things, even though being interrupted by nervous fans and giggling girls who wanted his autograph.

The portkey left from The Broken Broomstick in the afternoon, Harry being the only one to return this early. Once in Scotland he hurried inside the carriage. He didn't linger longer than to deposit his things before heading up to the castle, and the library more specifically, in attempt to find something about the Riddle family. After three hours of non-productive search he decided to try a different approach and tried to summon books about the Riddle Family. Nothing.

With a sigh he returned to the carriage and went to bed early.

The next morning found Harry in the Great Hall surprisingly early to be in the middle of the holidays. Not even half of the European students had arrived yet, though all the professors were at the head table.

Harry was flicking through a herbology book he had gotten in Wattle Avenue when Professor Reaburn approached him and sat down on the nearly empty bench by the Gryffindor table.

"Good morning, professor," Harry greeted politely.

"Good morning," she replied. "I came with an offer to you. Professor Daniels and the Hogwarts herbology professor Sprout have naturally found a common topic of conversation, and professor Daniels told her about you, which lead to her suggesting you might want to join her class for these two weeks to study the plants in these greenhouses, as there are a few that are not seen at Waratah."

Harry looked at her with curiosity. "That might be interesting. Do they have Snargaluffs?"

"I would suppose so, as they are native to Scotland," Professor Reaburn said with a smile.

"Oh, great! When is the lesson?"

"Ten O'clock, Greenhouse two. You'll be sharing class with the fifth years," she replied and touched his shoulder before she stood and left.

Harry jerked his arm with a low "yes!" and returned to his book. He managed a few more pages before Neville appeared ahead of him.

"You're back already! How was the holiday?"

"Great! Except for the fact that aunt Marge visited the Dursleys. She loves to insult my parents, and even uncle Vernon grew angry at her sometimes. I'd understand if aunt Petunia did, after all, mum was her sister, but uncle Vernon?" Harry frowned.

Neville grabbed his fork and dug it into a hash brown which he brought to his plate. "He is probably not as stupid as he looks like, then."

Harry snorted at that. "You know what? Professor Reaburn said Professor Sprout had suggested I joined her class until school starts again," he said with a wide grin.

"Wow, that's great! Are you going to my class, then?" Neville asked. "At ten?"

"Yes. Is it true you have Fanged Geraniums?" Harry asked enthusiastically and waved at Fred and George as they dumped down beside Neville.

"Yeah, of course! Don't you?"

"No. That's why I'm so excited about having a look."

Just then the owls arrived. Harry, who wasn't expecting anything, returned to his book. He was surprised, however, when an owl landed in front of him and held out its leg. With a frown Harry took the letter and watched it fly off before he opened it.

_Dear Harry,_

_I went through the Wizard Registration Office's files in the ministry, and the only thing I found with the name "Riddle" was about a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle. I copied the files and added them in the letter._

_Arthur Weasley._

As Harry looked inside the envelope he found other folded pieces of parchment and pulled them out to look.

Name: Tom Marvolo Riddle

Birth: Wool's Orphanage, December 31. 1926

Blood status: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Harry paused after five lines and sighed, causing the twins to look at him.

"Wha's up, Harry?" George asked.

Casting a silencing charm around them with his hand he handed them the letter. "I got this from your father. I asked him to go through the files in the Ministry, hoping he would find something about Riddle. Well, he did, but it's not very much."

"He doesn't know who his parents are?" Fred asked and raised a brow.

"I would guess he did, but not the Ministry," Harry figured.

"Marvolo, what kind of a name is that?" George asked and burst out laughing. "No wonder he never uses his name!"

"Well, he found nothing about his father, Tom Riddle, meaning that he'd have to be either a muggle or from another country," Harry said.

The twins laughed even harder. "To think Moldy-shorts might have a muggle father, while he's trying to kill every muggle-born in the world!"

"What are you going to do with that, Harry?" Neville asked. "Go through the muggle archives as well?"

"I don't know. But we have his middle name to go from now. It might not be just a spin-up; it might be he has been named after someone. I was after all," Harry said and stared down at the letter. Making up his mind he lifted the silencing charm and picked up his book and letters. "I'll be at the library. See you at ten, Neville," Harry said and darted out of the room.

He spent the few hours until ten to search the library. It was not an easy task considering the number of books stocked in there.

Eventually he managed to find four rather strange books in the section _Wizarding families_. They listed descendents of the founders of Hogwarts, and Harry pulled them out. He flicked through the Gryffindor line and the Hufflepuff line without finding anything interesting. Glancing at the watch he stuffed the last two in his bag and left the library.

On his way to the greenhouses he entered the carriage to get his dragonhide gloves and then walked on to the three greenhouses placed further down on the Hogwarts ground.

Harry was awfully aware of how his white robes stood out to the Hogwarts black robes, but tried to ignore it. The stares he got were not that easy, though. There were both Gryffindors and Slytherins there, and Neville quickly waved him over.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy spat across the table. "Spying?"

Harry frowned. "No. Why would I do that?"

"Well, I don't know. To bring our secrets to your hole far away in nowhere, maybe?" Malfoy challenged.

Neville interrupted: "Malfoy, Harry can kick your sorry ass and make you cry for your daddy with a simple wave of his wand – or without."

Professor Sprout chose the moment to enter the greenhouse, and she threw Harry a smile that caused Malfoy to scowl even more at him.

"Good morning, class. Today we've gotten a guest from Waratah, namely Harry Potter. He's here because he wishes to learn about the different plants and herbs we have here, which they have not in the greenhouses at Waratah. Now, we are going to work on the Bottlebulb." She pulled forth a flowerpot with a bottle-shaped bulb sticking into the soil mouth first. It was transparent with a slightly yellow tint to it, showing an inside filled with a clear fluid and some walnut-sized balls grew from the top inside the bulb. "Does anyone know what this fluid inside is?"

Harry looked around to see Hermione on his right side raise her hand. She hadn't changed, then.

"Miss Granger?"

"The Bottlebulb contains honeywater, which is a sweet-tasting fluid, though poisonous. The plant uses it to transport nutrition from the soil."

"Very good. Ten points to Gryffindor. Today we are going to collect these seedpods that are growing inside."

In order to collect the seedpods they had to dig down and close the mouth of the bulb so the fluid didn't get out, because if it did the plant would die by loss of the fluid when they lifted it up from the soil. Then they had to turn it around and stick their hand inside to get the pods.

"But I thought they were poisonous," Malfoy asked, frowning.

"You're not supposed to lick your hands afterwards, Mr. Malfoy," professor Sprout said calmly.

Each student got a pot of this funny plant and was ordered to set to work. Harry rolled up his sleeves and dug a little in the soil to find the mouth of the bulb and closed it with a hand on it before he lifted it up. The roots attached to the area close to the mouth followed, and he was careful not to break too many of them before he turned it around. Several of the others were struggling with that part, and many of the plants lost fluid before they managed to turn it around.

Harry then gently pushed his hand inside the narrow, but flexible bottle neck until he had his underarm up to the elbow inside. With a small jerk of his hand he separated the pods from the bulb and pulled out his arm.

Professor Sprout was walking around guiding her students, and by the time Harry replanted the Bottlebulb she had reached him and Neville.

"That was quickly done, Mr. Potter," she said.

"Thank you, professor. What can you use the seeds for, ma'am?"

"Potions. They are used in the Babbling Beverage," she replied.

"Really? In that case you use a different recipe, because I've brewed that, but not with Bottlebulb seeds," Harry replied.

"That might be. You'll have to ask professor Snape about potions, though; I'm not an expert," Professor Sprout replied. "But there's something I would like to ask you about. Do you have the Roselip flower in your greenhouses in Australia?"

Harry looked at her with a surprised expression. "Yes, of course, ma'am. They were our homework during summer hols in our second year."

"I've always wanted some of those. They'd make good use for Poppy in the Hospital wing," she said.

Harry smiled at that. "I'm sure they would."

"What's a Roselip, Harry?" asked Hermione. She had apparently listened to the conversation, and with her thirst of knowledge Harry knew he shouldn't be surprised of her asking.

Harry merely held out his hand and created an image of the Roselip in his pot. The action caused several heads to turn. "This is a Roselip. Really fascinating, actually. Native to Australia's north-eastern rainforests. They're quite demanding as they each have individual preferences of amount of water and sunlight. One wants three hours in the sun, and another wants six. Their flowers are very useful, though, having healing powers. The most amusing fact is that they suck on to human skin and leave hickeys, especially on a person they appreciate."

"Appreciate?" Hermione frowned at that and watched the plant image moving. "Plants can't appreciate someone."

"This one can. My arms and neck was filled with hickeys when I was done with the assignment. Julian said it looked like I had been in a fistfight."

"Oh..."


	28. Chapter 28

After Herbology Harry ended up in the Great Hall flicking through the last books of the lines of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. At the end of the latter he almost couldn't hold his exclamation of joy, and Fred and George, who had arrived for lunch, noticed that.

"What? Did you find something?" They leaned across the table to see while Harry put up a silencing charm.

"There's a guy named Marvolo Gaunt here. It says he had two children named Morfin and Merope Gaunt. If I'm not completely wrong Tom knows parseltongue, as he was able to communicate with Nagini, and the book clearly says that most of Slytherin's descendants knew parseltongue. And with the name Marvolo here I'd guess that Marvolo is his maternal grandfather or something like that."

"It couldn't have been an uncle or something like that?" Fred suggested.

Harry glanced at him and read aloud: "_The Gaunt Family was the last descendents of the House of Slytherin. Morfin Gaunt ended his life in Azkaban for having killed the muggle family Riddle which was living nearby the Gaunt house in Little Hangleton." _Looking at his friends Harry grinned widely. "We've got it!"

"He's a halfblood!" George exclaimed and guffawed. "Moldy-shorts-muggle-hater has a muggle father!"

Harry chuckled. "Yeah. Now we only have to find out if there are any objects he put his soul in that might belong to Slytherin. After all he chose Hufflepuff as well... Oh, wait!" Suddenly recalling something he opened the book close to the beginning and flipped the pages until he found the picture he was searching for. "See that!" He pushed the book over to them and pointed at a picture with a locket holding a green S.

"I think we should pay a visit to this Little Hangleton," Fred grinned mischievously.

"Agreed. There might be a hint for another horcrux there if the house is still there. I just hope Tom is not using it as a hide-out," George said.

"You can side-along apparition, I hope? I can't apparate yet, though we are learning this year. We can always make a porkey, though. That's easy," Harry said.

"I suppose we should go for the portkey. At least everyone would end up at the same spot then."

"How about next weekend? Hermione and mum will have our hides – "

"- if we don't study for the N.E. ."

"And what would you think Mrs. Weasley would do if she learned you would be going hunting for soul pieces?" Harry challenged, and the twins exchanged a look.

"There is that," Fred muttered. "But that won't be enough – "

" - to stop us from helping our best friend – "

" – saving the world!"

Neville sat down and looked quizzically at them when he realized they had a silencing charm around them. Harry made the charm include Neville and pushed the book towards him. Neville quickly read the page Harry gestured at, then glanced back at him.

"That's his family? The Gaunts?"

Harry nodded. "We believe that there might be a clue in the Gaunt house since Marvolo Gaunt appears to be Tom's grandfather."

"And this Riddle family is his father's family, then?" Neville asked, again confirmed by a nod from Harry. "You're going there, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Next weekend."

"I'm going with you," Neville said determined, and even when Harry tried to keep him from it he stood by his word.

Harry spent the evening practicing at the Quidditch pitch, and then doing strength exercises that they usually did at practice in the Aquarium.

ANC ANC ANC

The next morning Ron sat down above Harry, to most people's surprise. "Hey, Harry, you think you could join Potions today as well? It'd sure be a lot more fun to see Snape trying to get you stuck. And you could help me. After all Neville has become quite good at potions. You know a lot about it, don't you?"

Harry shrugged. "A little. But I'm not going inside Snape's classroom voluntarily."

Ron's eyes gleamed in determination. "Then I'm going to ask Dumbledore for permission, and drag you down there."

"Why? Why are you so determined to get me down there?" Harry wondered.

Ron frowned. "What else do you have to do? Besides, I need the help. Hermione has stopped helping me a long time ago."

"So you want me to come just because you need my help?" Harry challenged.

"Well, yeah... you get to practice brewing, though. That might be useful?" Ron suggested hopefully.

Harry snorted. "I can practice brewing whenever I want. But I'll join that stupid potions class if I'm allowed to."

Ron beamed widely at him. "Great! I'll ask Dumbledore, then!" He got up and walked towards the head table with a surprising determination.

"Where is he going?" Hermione asked from further up the table.

"Ask Dumbledore about something," Harry muttered.

Ron returned a couple of minutes later and started piling food onto his plate as he spoke. "He agreed, claiming that might be a good idea, not only for me, but for you as well, since you're here already and have two more weeks of holiday without anything to do."

This time Malfoy only glared at him when they stopped outside the potions classroom in the dungeons. His eyes followed Harry all the time, and his usual confidence wasn't as strong as normal.

"I think he's afraid of you, Harry," Ron muttered.

Harry raised a brow. "Why would he be afraid of me? That's just silly."

"No," Hermione agreed, "Ron might be right for once. After all what happened at the game is not easily forgotten, and besides, you're much bigger than him, and stronger. I saw him looking at you when you did those exercises yesterday. Just look." Her hand grasped his upper arm. "You've got more muscles than Ron, and he's a keeper!"

"Well, what can I say? We've got John Weber as coach, you shouldn't expect anything less," Harry said just as professor Snape appeared. He unlocked the door and strode towards the blackboard with his robes billowing behind him. Harry didn't get a chance to choose seats as Ron pulled him along to a desk in the back of the classroom.

"Today we have been so unlucky to be forced to share room with Potter..." Snape glared at Harry, who kept his nonchalant expression, having prepared himself for this. "I doubt they have taught you anything down there, have they? What are the key ingredients to the Concilium Concoction?"

"Newt's eyes, fairy wings and nettles, sir," Harry replied, slightly confused.

Snape stared at him critically for a moment, as if judging him. "What happens if you add bicorn horn to an Embarrassment Potion?"

"The other ingredients won't eliminate the venom of a lionfish, and it will kill you, sir," Harry replied without a moment of hesitation.

"And how do you recognize an Amortentia?"

"It has a mother-of-pearl sheen, spiralling steam, and scents based on what the person likes," Harry replied.

"Excuse me, sir, that's O.W.L level questions! You can't expect him to know that!" Hermione interrupted, her hand stretched up in the air.

Snape glared at her. "Ten points from Gryffindor for speaking without permission!" he barked. Without another word he waved his wand towards the blackboard and the ingredients and directions appeared. "Get started!"

Harry studied the blackboard before he pulled out his potions storing box which enlarged when he pushed magic into it. When it was on the size of a narrow cupboard he opened it and entered, as it had undetectable extension charms on it. Inside he searched the shelves for the requested ingredients and returned to his spot beside Ron, who was looking at the cupboard with wide eyes.

"What is that, Mr. Potter?" Harry whirled around to see Snape staring at him with his creepy black eyes.

"That would be my potions storage cupboard, sir," Harry said matter-of-factly.

Snape studied it thoughtfully for a few moments while Harry set to work. "Where did you get something like this?"

"It was a gift from the school, sir," Harry replied truthfully.

"For what? Why would a school give you something like this? This is no ordinary cupboard."

Harry hesitated, not sure whether he should tell or not. He didn't want to seem arrogant.

"Potter?" Snape warned.

With a sigh Harry looked up from the mortar he was working with. "Any student who has got only Os in every assignment and exam in potions for a year gets one," he replied lowly.

Snape raised his brows, and for once he looked surprised. "And you did?"

Harry just nodded and focused on his work.

"How many has a cupboard like this?" Snape asked.

"Only three in my year."

Snape didn't quite seem like he believed him, but he didn't say anything else and resumed his round. Only then Harry realized that people nearby were looking at him.

"Is it true, Harry? Did you really manage straight Os?" Hermione asked with awe in her voice."

"Yeah. In my fourth year."

Harry worked on his potion in silence until he noticed Ron attempting to add lacewing flies into his before aconite. With the speed of a seeker he grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Don't do that. That'll only be a mistake. Reread the instructions," Harry muttered.

Ron looked at the blackboard for a moment. "Oh. Thanks."

The potion had accomplished the correct silvery grey hue twenty minutes into the class. Harry bottled it with satisfaction and placed most of it inside his cupboard, letting the last bottle remain on the desk for inspection. Upon seeing this Snape approached him and studied the content.

"You're done already. Have you done it before?"

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

"My third year, sir."

Snape glared at him and then returned to the front of the classroom. Harry frowned, slightly confused until the greasy- haired man returned with a piece of parchment which he placed on the desk.

"Brew this," he challenged and left.

Ron leaned over to look, but shook his head. "He's expecting you to brew something when you only have the ingredients, and no directions?"

Harry met his gaze. "Obviously. Professor MacCay does that all the time." He read the recipe a couple of times before finding the desired ingredients in his cupboard.

"You know what potion it is?" Hermione asked, having turned around to look from her spot beside Neville.

Harry merely smiled secretly at her and started with the ingredients he realized should be first. Not that they were written first on the parchment, though. Occasionally Snape would appear beside him and peer into his cauldron, and even Hermione appeared more interested in watching him rather than finishing her own.

When Harry stirred the asked nine times counter clockwise the navy blue potion changed into a sky blue colour, and a rosy smell emitted from it. He looked up at Snape, who raised a brow and approached him. Almost everyone in the classroom watched as the potions master bent to study the potion.

"Do you know what potion this is, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked.

"Yes, sir. But why did you want me to brew a dark potion?" Harry wondered.

"Could you tell me the name of it?"

"Medusa's mixture, sir," Harry replied.

"Have you done it before?"

"No, sir, but we are taught how to recognize dark potions when we see one. It's important and a kind of defence."

"Indeed." Snape turned towards the class. "Class dismissed. Potter, I want a word with you afterwards."

"Yes, sir." With a wave of his hand the potion vanished.

"Harry, what is Medusa's mixture?" Hermione asked.

He glanced at her over with a frown before he shut his cupboard and shrank it. "A very dark potion. It looks harmless, but it will kill you slowly and painfully. There is no antidote to this one."

As soon as everyone had left the room Snape leaned towards the desk Hermione had used. "Who is your professor in potions?"

"Professor McCay, sir."

"He taught you the art of potions? My, my. I never thought I would see James Potter's son excelling in Potions."

"My mother was a good potioneer as far as I know, sir," Harry replied, ignoring the obvious attempt of insult.

"That she was. Until you got her killed."

"It was not my fault Tom chose me, sir. I was only one. What could I have done?"

"What do you know about the Dark Lord?" Snape asked, his voice suddenly much lower.

Harry frowned. "I couldn't tell you that, could I, sir? You would only tell Dumbledore or Tom."

"Would I?" Snape challenged, raising a brow. "How would you know if I told the Dark Lord?"

"Well, you have the Dark Mark, don't you, sir? If you really want I could remove it, but that would mean you wouldn't know when Tom asked for your presence. You wouldn't be a spy for any part anymore. Who are you spying for really, sir?" Harry asked, making sure to keep his voice calm. He was sure he had crossed the line by calling Snape a spy, but he wanted to know. He wanted to know where he stood.

"You can remove the Mark?" Snape hissed lowly, his eyes wide open in surprise. "I thought it was irremovable?"

Harry hesitated, searching the knowledge in his mind before he nodded. "It's not, sir, if you know how to. I'm pretty sure I can."

"How do you know how to do that?" Snape inquired.

"We learn a lot more than boggarts and patronus charms in Defence class at Waratah, professor," Harry replied simply.

"You learn about the Dark Mark in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Not the Mark specifically."

Snape stared at him for several seconds as if considering his offer. "I can't. It will only put me in more danger."

"Who are you fighting for, sir?" Harry studied him thoughtfully for a moment, not really expecting him to answer.

"What does it matter to you?" he snarled coolly.

Harry sighed heavily. "You were mum's friend, weren't you, sir? Aunt Petunia told me so. Mum cared about you."

Snape froze visibly at that, and once more the dungeon was filled with silence. "I asked the Dark Lord not to kill her," he whispered. "He didn't listen. Dumbledore offered me protection, saying I could help honouring her by protecting you."

Harry didn't know what to think. Never had he imagined Snape to deliver such an explanation to him. And he thought Snape hated him? What was going on?

"I'm not particularly happy with working under Dumbledore. As you have experienced yourself he turns a blind eye towards other people's... wishes. For the greater good," Snape drawled. He hesitated for a moment, appearing unsure. "Dumbledore seems to think you are the only one who can bring down the Dark Lord, and he wants control over you in order for you to do so."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "I figured as much," he muttered.

"You should probably leave and join your friends – I understand you made it up with Weasley and Granger?"

"Ron apologized, sir, and he's behaving better. I haven't forgiven him, though, and I don't trust them. Hermione hasn't apologized yet, but I don't want to be the one to make her blood boil," Harry replied.

"Come back here Wednesday after lunch if you're up for a new challenge. You can go."

Harry nodded and grabbed his bag before leaving the room, feeling slightly confused at Snape's behaviour. Shaking his head in attempt to clear it he headed towards the Waratah carriage to get his broom.

A/N: If you're still wondering this story is going to be without pairings.


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Sorry it's been so long. I've just lost any inspiration, and I thought I'd get back to it at some point, but as I've had my exams recently my thoughts have been somewhere else and the story has been forgotten. I will try to continue, though._

Weekend finally arrived, and Harry had prepared a portkey that would leave for the Gaunt property in Little Hangleton in five minutes. The twins and Neville had agreed to meet him by the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The twins arrived in good time, but Neville came sprinting across the grass in the last minute.

"Sorry," he breathed as the portkey started glowing blue.

They all grabbed hold of it, and the next moment they weren't in Scotland any longer. Harry looked around to find a small, broken-down, filthy shack about ten yards away from them. It was overgrown with now dead plants and was barely visible in the snow. The windows were black with grime, and where snow had slid off the roof they could see missing tiles. Nearby trees covered the shack from almost all light. The skeleton of a snake hung on the door.

Warily he approached the house, keeping his wand out. Neville and the twins copied him as they neared. Harry felt nervous. He didn't know what to expect, but he still had an eerie feeling about the place.

_Homenum Revelio_. "There's no other humans here than us," Harry concluded and once again with a silent incantation asked for information about present magic. "But there's magic here."

"What sort of magic?" Fred inquired.

"I bet it's dark magic," George added.

"It is very dark. No doubt Riddle's work. It is something hidden inside, under the floor," Harry said as he found the position of the magic. "Clever, Tom, to use a place with meaning, yet not attract any attention to it," he muttered and pushed the door open. It complained loudly by the movement.

The inside of the shack was covered with grime, and there were rusty pots and broken glass spread over the half rotten floorboards.

"Ugh!" Neville exclaimed and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "How could anyone live in something like this?"

"They were obviously poor – "

" - and careless about their house unless – "

" - they had been taken away with force and there had been a battle here," the twins said.

Harry ignored the conversation, busy opening the floorboards. "A box?" he asked with wonder, and the others hurried over to look.

"Just a box?" Neville asked.

"Might be something in it," Fred said and bent down to pick it up. Harry quickly stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"Don't touch it. I have to find out what kind of curse this is. It's probably something dangerous, seeing as Tom did it. Whatever is inside he wants it well guarded."

Fred nodded and pulled back, watching as Harry waved his wand and for once muttered several incantations out loud, neither of which they had heard before.

"We should have had Bill here," George muttered. "He's a curse breaker, he'd get this one off in seconds."

"Not necessary. I know what it is, and I think I remember how to break it too," Harry said.

"What is it, then?"

"One touch and you'd be dead, enough said," Harry said before firing off a bright yellow stream of light that lit up the dark shack for a short moment. The box was surrounded by the yellow light, which then turned into something glass-like and shattered.

Harry grinned with satisfaction and pulled it out. The dark red box about the size of a jewel box and had golden patterns engraved into the lid.

"I hadn't expected him to use Gryffindor's colours," Fred said, grinning madly.

"Makes it seem less likely to be his or harmful," Harry muttered and opened the box. Inside was one single ring with a large black stone holding a symbol of a triangle, a circle and a line.

"That's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows!" Neville exclaimed, causing the twins to look at him in surprise, and confusion from Harry.

"How do you know?" Fred asked.

"Luna told me. Her father is a strong believer," Neville said.

"What are the Deathly Hallows?" Harry asked, frowning.

"They're part of a wizard fairytale. Luna said that the legend says that the one with the possession of each of them would be the master of death. If I had a guess that ring would hold the resurrection stone," Neville exclaimed.

Harry glanced back at the ring. He didn't understand exactly what Neville was talking about, but whatever it was he concluded with that it might be a horcrux. In his mind that was the most important at the moment.

"Well, fairytales have to wait for later. Tom certainly isn't Snow White. Rather the witch," Harry muttered and placed the box on the floor.

"Snow White? That's a candy, right?" Neville asked curiously.

"No, that's a muggle fairytale. Now, stand back, we have to destroy this thing," Harry said and aimed his wand.

"It's a horcrux?"

"I believe it is."

_Avada Kedavra._

A scream filled the room, confirming Harry's suspicion, and the stone on the ring cracked in two pieces.

"Four down, two to go," Fred muttered.

"Four?" Neville repeated, appearing slightly perplexed.

"Yeah. The snake, Nagini – "

"- which Harry killed when saving dad – "

"- Slytherin's locket – "

"- which we found in the Black house when cleaning over Christmas – "

" – Tom Riddle's diary – "

" – which Ginny destroyed for us in her first year – "

"and now the ring – "

" – which Harry destroyed easily, as you saw," the twins explained, causing Neville to look back and forth between them.

Neville raised his brows in surprise. "Oh. Do you know what the last ones are, then?"

"I know about Hufflepuff's cup, which is hidden inside the Lestrange vault in Gringotts. The last one I have practically no idea about," Harry explained. "I suggest we get out of here."

He checked the ring for more magic, and upon finding some advanced charms and spells he decided to cancel them as well, not trusting Tom's wandwork a bit, before he picked it up and followed Neville and the twins outside.

"So are you making a portkey back to Hogwarts too, Harry?" George asked.

"Yup." Pulling out a broken quill he tapped it with his wand. _Portus_. "Now, grab on; it'll leave any moment."

The four of them gathered around it as it glowed blue, and with a low _pop_ they appeared on the ground outside Hagrid's cabin.

"Maybe You-Know-Who used the resurrection stone for a reason, do you recon, Harry?" Fred wondered.

Harry paused and looked at him. "You think it means something to him? Neville, could you please tell me about this fairytale?"

"Sure." Neville quickly told them the story as they walked towards the castle. "So what do you think? He's always searched to be immortal. You remember the unicorn blood from our first year, right?"

"I do. And the Philosopher's Stone; he wanted that too. Not to mention the horcruxes. Well, there's one way to prevent him from getting all the Hallows," Harry reasoned.

"Destroy them," the twins chorused.

"At least one. That would break the chain."

"You already destroyed one. If not there are some weird charms on t

he stone, that is," Neville pointed out.

"No, I removed those. Merlin, I didn't realize they were a part of the resurrection stone, I thought Tom had placed them there," Harry said.

"Well, that doesn't matter. It's destroyed now. You-Know-Who can't do anything with it," George concluded.

ANC ANC ANC

Waratah was playing Durmstrang in late February, and Harry was nervous. He would be playing against Krum, the world's best seeker, known for the Wronski Feints he himself tended to use. He was unsure whether they would work against Krum if he tried.

The Horcrux hunt was pushed out of his head the week before the match; he also lost some focus on the school work, and even though the professors understood that he was nervous they couldn't let him forget school completely. He even managed to splinch himself during apparation training which had started.

But finally Saturday arrived, and Harry made himself ready in the locker room.

"Are you ready, guys?" Anthony asked.

"Yeah!" Christopher and Ivan shouted in unison and banged their bats.

"Come on, Harry, don't look so down," Emma said and clapped his back. "You're going to do great!"

Harry glanced at her with a frown. "I hope you're right."

"Of course I am! Now, get your broom. We're going to beat some Europeans!"

He followed the team out to the course and mounted his broom. To the loud calls from the speaker they rose into the air and into the start position. Viktor was hovering right in front of him, looking back with a determined expression.

Then the match was on. Harry started circling the pitch as usual and kept an eye on Krum in the corner of his eye. The minutes passed as they searched, and the chasers from Durmstrang gave the Waratah chasers a great challenge. About twice a minute Harry had to dodge a bludger zooming towards him.

"Waratah is in the lead with twenty points ahead of Durmstrang. Ooo! Good hit there by Durmstrang beater Bauer. Wild almost fall off his broom, but manages to clutch on to it!" Lee shouted.

A sudden movement caught Harry's eye, and he quickly turned his head to see. Krum was diving towards the ground in high speed, and Harry turned and followed him. However, just as he was about to enter the dive he caught a glimpse of something gold on the other end of the pitch and quickly changed direction, figuring Krum had missed the arrival of the snitch during his dive.

Now he had a head start and the snitch clear in his eye. He crouched low in his broom to increase the speed and slowly gained on the speedy golden ball. Krum was approaching from the side, but Harry stretched out his hand. It was only inches away now. He urged the broom even faster, and just as Krum stretched a long arm he tipped forward and barely caught it before tumbling off the broom.

Only an automatic reflex Mr. Weber had forced them to practice saved him from falling hundred feet; he grabbed the handle of his broom with his free hand in the last moment.

"Harry Potter has caught the snitch! Waratah wins the match!"

Harry then felt hands grabbing the back of his robes and hoist him back on the broom. Turning he saw Christopher grinning madly.

"Amazing catch, Harry!" he exclaimed.

"Thanks. I thought we'd have to play longer, though."

"No, no. You just took the moment when he was busy with something else."

Even before Harry had landed he was overrun by Emma, who hugged him happily. "You're insane, do you know that?"

Harry just grinned at that and pushed himself off the ground as the crowd cheered. Among the white uniforms he heard the Lionpaw lion roar loudly, honours to Dylan.

ANC ANC ANC

Harry was pacing the corridors of Hogwarts without any purpose, really. He was trying to figure out the last Horcrux, but here he didn't have as much to go from. A lot of luck had brought him so far. So far his theory had been correct; Riddle had picked objects with meaning to him, being his ancestors' ring; a snake, which was more or less his signature as he was of Slytherin heritage and spoke snake tongue; the locket and the goblet from two of the founders, which Fred and George claimed meant that Hogwarts had an important position for him.

"Or else he as a Slytherin wouldn't have chosen Hufflepuff."

Then maybe the last thing belonged to either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? Harry wondered. That would give at least three of the founders.

He wasn't paying attention to where he was going and suddenly he crashed into something – or someone, rather.

"I'm sorry, I didn't – " just as he stepped back his eyes landed on no one else than Dumbledore.

"Now, now, Harry, no worries," he said and offered Harry a smile. "Just the man I was looking for, in fact. Do you mind coming with me to my office?"

"For what?" Harry asked and frowned suspiciously.

"Oh, just a cup of tea and a nice little chat," Dumbledore said casually.

For once Harry accepted, but clutched the wand in his pocket tightly. There was bound to be something happening. Dumbledore wouldn't invite him just to a tea and a nice chat.

Once in Dumbledore's office he was offered a chair and took it, without his gaze leaving the old man.

"Lemon drops?"

Harry looked at the yellow drops and performed a discrete wandless detecting charm. "No thank you, sir. I didn't come here to be poisoned. Tell me what you want."

Dumbledore looked at him silently for several seconds. Whether he was surprised by Harry's statement he didn't show it.

"Let's make a deal, Harry. You get back to Hogwarts, and I will leave the Dursleys alone," Dumbledore said and placed his finger tips against each other.

"So you're threatening to attack my family in order to get me here?" Harry asked, fighting to stay calm.

"No, no, my boy. I just say that I will get them involved if you don't accept the deal," Dumbledore replied.

"You know, headmaster, when I met you the first time I thought you seemed like a fair headmaster. But as my first year progressed and I figured you obviously knew about how the other students here and the Dursley treated me at that point, I realized you weren't as just as people want it. You ignored the pain I had to endure for eleven years of my life, and now you ask me to return to you just like that? How stupid do you think I am?" Harry exclaimed, standing now.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "If that's the way you want it I have no other choice," he said and pulled out his wand and aimed towards Harry.

A start hit Harry as he realized what was going on. He didn't even take time to get his wand before he sent a disarming charm at Dumbledore. The red light hit him in the stomach, and the wand was thrown out of his hand. Harry caught it in the air and glared angrily at Dumbledore.

"You caught me by surprise there, lad," Dumbledore said. "Obliviate!" he exclaimed, and a green light shot from his hand towards Harry.

Harry barely managed to conjure a shield which the spell bounced off and right back to Dumbledore, sending him into the wall of paintings behind him with a crash.

"Headmaster!" the portraits exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Dumbledore just sat still for several seconds before he looked up at Harry. "Ah, young boy! Why don't you help me up?" he asked.

When Harry didn't move Dumbledore pushed himself up, though he appeared confused. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" Dumbledore then looked around. "Where are we exactly?"

_And that was supposed to hit me? Harry_ thought, shocked. Dumbledore had really planned to erase all his memories, and probably then shape him as he wanted himself. He couldn't help the anger starting to fill him. That stupid old fool had tried to take over his life, manipulate him and force him to do his own bidding.

"And who am I?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry quickly left the office and searched the halls for Professor McGonagall's. He found it on first floor and hastily knocked on the door. Several seconds passed, and then the doors slid up, revealing a slightly annoyed looking Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter!" she said, the annoyance in her face already gone. "How may I help you?"

"It might be better if I tell you inside, Professor," Harry said.

"Very well." She stepped aside and let him in before closing the door. "Now, tell me what brings you to my office."

Harry told her what had happened and was met with surprise, naturally.

"I never thought he would sink that low. I will go and take a look at him."

Harry gave her a nod and was left in the room looking after her, stunned by the recent events.


	30. Chapter 30

Harry had sat down with a book about defence against the Dark Arts spells when Neville came jogging down the row of bookshelves in the library with an excited expression and a tome clutched to his chest.

"Harry," he began breathlessly, "I think I found something interesting about Tom."

"And what might that be?" Harry wondered curiously and put up a silencing spell around them.

"I was wandering the corridors yesterday seeking for a place to hide a book I bought about horcruxes, and as I passed the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy on seventh floor a huge door appeared on the wall across the corridor. So I entered, naturally, out of curiosity. I'll tell you I've never seen a room so filled with everything, not even Grandma's storeroom has so many different things inside," Neville told him eagerly.

Harry just looked back in slight confusion. "And why are you telling me this?"

Neville pushed back a chair, sat down and opened a page with a bookmark sticking out. "Because as I started looking through the room I found this really old, though expensive looking jewellery box with rusty hinges. What occurred to me was that it was so strikingly similar to this." He pointed at a picture in book. It was of an antique jewellery box in silver with a monogram of RR in sappires on the lid. Beneath the picture a small description was written. _The jewellery box that once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, founder of Hogwarts School._

Harry felt his heart increase the rhythm in anticipation. Maybe they had already found another one? It kind of made sense that if Voldemort had chosen an object from Hufflepuff he'd also pick one from Ravenclaw. Forgetting his book he stood.

"Show me," he told Neville who then closed the book and hurried out of the library.

They moved up to the seventh floor and stopped by the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy. Then Neville got a bit hesitant.

"Did the door just appear?" Harry wondered as he stared at the blank wall.

"Yeah. Like, I came up here and kept thinking about finding a hiding spot for the book, and it just slid out of my hands just there," Neville said and pointed at a spot on the floor. "Maybe there's an invisible button there." He walked over and stomped his foot on one particular stone on the floor before looking at the wall expectantly.

Nothing happened. "I don't understand this!"

"Tell me again what happened," Harry demanded.

"Well, I came up the corridor and dropped the book here. About here," Neville took three steps forward and stopped, "I turned and returned to the book," Neville turned and moved back to the previous spot, and then turned again and walked a few steps. "and when I reached about here – " As a huge wooden door started to appear on the wall Neville stopped mid sentence. "There it is!" he exclaimed and pushed it open.

The insides looked like it had been collecting useless things for centuries, but then again, it probably had. Harry followed Neville inside and through the maze the heaps of objects created. He tried to remember the directions back as they walked, and at last Neville stopped by a stack of strange instruments which looked like those Dumbledore had on his office. On top of it was the jewellery box they had seen in the book. Neville stretched up to pull it down and handed it to Harry.

"Do you think it's a horcrux?" he wondered.

Harry opened it and looked inside before he performed a spell to detect eventual magic on the box.

"There is ancient magic in it, but not dark magic. This is not a horcrux."

"Oh." Neville sighed in disappointment, and Harry had to admit he was disappointed as well; he had really hoped they had found one now, but today apparently wasn't their lucky day.

Harry reached up on his toes to put the box back, but then suddenly stepped out of balance and fell backwards on a stack of odd objects which crashed down on him. Automatically his arms covered his head until the crashing of object against the floor had stopped.

"Harry, are you okay?" Neville asked with a concerned frown. He had moved outside the reach for the falling objects.

"Yeah. Probably get a bruise from that old grandfather clock, though."

"We should probably head out of here," Neville said and started towards the entrance.

Harry nodded and moved to follow, but just out of the corner of his eye he spotted something he'd thought he'd seen before. "Hold on." He stepped across the broken grandfather clock and picked up a discoloured old tiara that had fallen down with all the objects. If he only imagined it a bit newer and cleaner he could easily recognize it from the Ravenclaw he'd searched through a while ago.

"What did you find? A tiara?" Neville questioned as he returned to Harry's side.

"It looks like one I saw in the Ravenclaw book," Harry said.

"Then maybe _that's _a horcrux?" Neville suggested.

Harry met his gaze with a thoughtful look before studying the tiara with a frown. He then repeated the spell. Upon the results he gave Neville a wide grin. "That's it."

"It is?" Neville asked in disbelief, like he hadn't really dared to believe it.

"Yeah." Harry put it down on the floor and aimed his wand on it. "I will not ask you to do the killing curse instead of me, but I'll give you the offer." He glanced at Neville, who looked a bit hesitant, but then pulled his wand.

"I want to. If I could kill at least a part of Voldemort I'd do it," he said with a firm voice. His hand trembled a bit, but his eyes gleamed with determination. A moment later he uttered the two words that formed the curse Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, knew too well.

ANC ANC ANC

Dumbledore had been applied to the Spell damage ward at St. Mungo's, and the rumours that went through the student body about how he'd gotten hit by a memory charm were less than true. However, it was known that Harry had been there when it happened, but professor McGonagall had made sure no one blamed him, and those who were suffered various degrees of punishment. Now people were worried that Voldemort was going to attack soon seeing as Dumbledore was out of the way.

In addition Harry and the students from Waratah had their struggles with sixth grade classes. This was their B.A.T year and the workload and the effort were higher. Already from the first week you could see that the Waratah students were spending more time on their schoolwork than before Christmas break.

The last weekend of March held the next Quidditch match; Beauxbatons vs. Hogwarts. Harry and Dylan made a bet on the winner; Harry guessed Hogwarts, Dylan was convinced the Beauxbatons chasers were strong enough to weight against their poor seeker. Together they climbed up on the stands and had just found a place to sit when a man with long blonde hair and an unmistakably pointed face appeared on top of the stairs with a house-elf with tennis ball green eyes and wearing a pillowcase. Upon spotting Harry his eyes sparkled, and a small smile appeared on the house elf's face.

"Well, well, isn't it Harry Potter himself?" Mr. Malfoy said coldly.

"May I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked nonchalantly. This would be the first time he'd met Draco's father in person, but he already knew how he looked like, thanks to the Telegraph and the Prophet.

"I was just wondering; how does it feel now that Dumbledore is unable to protect you? You standing alone without any protection against the dark forces?" Mr. Malfoy asked smugly, and continued before Harry was able to reply. "Because I heard that was why he left you with your muggle aunt and her family?"

Harry nearly bit his tongue as he was about to throw back an angry reply, but Dylan's gentle hand on his shoulder made him think better of it. "I never stood alone, and I never needed Dumbledore's protection against your Master. I'm fully capable of defending myself, sir."

"Ah, of course." Mr. Malfoy gave him a look of disbelief, but Harry chose to ignore him and focus on the match that was about to start.

The players took to the air and the balls were released followed by cheering from the stands which were half Hogwarts students, half other students plus teachers. Hogwarts soon had the upper hand, leading fifty to zero within fifteen minutes. Ron stood strong in the hoops, and Fred and George high-fived and cheered loudly each time they hit one of the Beauxbatons players. Beauxbatons seeker Durand had spotted the snitch several times, but Malfoy had caught up with him and served as a distraction before he got even close to the golden ball. Regularly Harry heard groans and mutterings from Mr. Malfoy when Draco failed to catch the ball or when he was near on crashing.

Hogwarts was leading one hundred to thirty when Malfoy suddenly took a steep climb, obviously having spotted something higher up. Harry noticed the ball the next moment as it zoomed past their stands.

"Get it, Draco!" Mr. Malfoy shouted, probably for the fifth time during the match.

"Go Durand!" Dylan cried as Durand chased after Malfoy and the snitch. "Not in the world am I losing this bet!"

"You think Durand has a chance?" Jonathan asked in mild surprise. "Malfoy has to drop dead if Durand is going to catch the snitch!"

But just moments later Malfoy managed to get his fingers around the fluttering ball – right before a bludger sent from one of the French beaters hit him in the head and knocked him off the broom right above their stand.

A unison cry came from the audience, but Harry reacted automatically before anyone else even as much as managed to get a hand on their wand (call it hero complex). He didn't even waste time pulling his wand before uttering a spell. The falling figure of Draco Malfoy slowed down under the spell until Harry caught him by leaning over the railing.

The pitch and the stands were dead quiet until Malfoy was out of danger, and then the murmurs started. Only Mr. Malfoy remained frozen, staring at his limp son in the arms of the Boy Who Lived, who just then made his way down from the stands and was met by Madam Hooch.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing, Mr. Potter," she quickly instructed before taking the snitch Malfoy had been holding in his hand and turning to the rest of the players. "Hogwarts wins two hundred and fifty to thirty!" But the cheering wasn't too enthusiastic after what had just happened.

Harry knew that he'd get quite a few looks from the other students after this, but at the moment he didn't care too much. He might not like Draco Malfoy much, but he didn't want him dead. And since no one else had gathered their mind enough to save him, Harry had.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey demanded as he stepped into the Hospital Wing and showed him to a bed where he could put Malfoy down.

"He was hit in the head by a bludger and fell off his broom. He was caught before he hit the ground, though," Harry told her as he placed Malfoy on the bed.

Without another word Madam Pomfrey set to work, and Harry wavered a bit; unsure whether he should stay or leave.

"Is he going to be okay, ma'am?" he asked carefully.

She waved her wand in intricate patterns and pressed a cloth soaked in some potion to his head. "The chances for permanent damage are minimal; he will probably get back on track again."

"That's good then," Harry said and headed towards the door. Just as he was about to open someone barged through it and ran straight into him.

"Oh! I apologize, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said and gave him an apologetic look before she passed him on her way over to Madam Pomfrey with Snape and Mr. Malfoy in tow. None of the men as much as offered Harry a glance.

"How is he doing?" Mr. Malfoy asked concernedly and bent over the bed to look at his son.

"Certainly not better if you keep standing in my way so I can't help him!" Madam Pomfrey told him sharply, and Mr. Malfoy obediently took a step back. "He will manage."

"In the meantime, Mr. Malfoy, I suggest you thank young Mr. Potter for saving your son's life when everyone else came too short. That was a remarkable feat you did there, Mr. Potter. Stopping a person from falling in that speed is not an easy task."

"It was nothing, professor. I learned it at the national team in case I'd have to help others," he told her meekly before striding out of the room before anyone else managed to get another word through to him.

A/N: Hopefully it's not too bad. I was hoping you guys could give me some inspiration on how to get Hufflepuff's cup? That would have been really kind of you.


	31. Chapter 31

The following morning Harry sat beside Fred and George by the Gryffindor table when the mail arrived. He looked up in the mass of owls searching for Hedwig, hoping she had returned from Australia. But he spotted no white owl in the herd of birds.

"Harry, look," Neville said and shoved the Daily Prophet towards him.

The front page was sported with a divided photo of Harry and Draco Malfoy, and above, written in big letters: HARRY POTTER SAVES MALFOY'S SON.

Harry sighed and handed it back to Neville. "Whatever."

"You do realize that Malfoy owes you a life debt, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry frowned at that. "I didn't really think of that when I did that spell, though. It doesn't really matter if he does."

"Well, I'm sure it would matter to him once he learns you saved him. Being saved by his enemy and obliged to do something beneficial for the person he's raised to despise," Neville told him wisely.

Harry glanced across the hall to the Slytherin table. Like expected, Malfoy was not in sight, so he'd probably be at the Hospital Wing still. After all such a hit could leave one out for days. He knew from when Hugo had been hit in the head by a bludger while playing Argentina and was unconscious for a week.

He then looked up at the head table where a toad-like woman dressed in pink robes he recognized as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, was sitting in the headmaster's chair, and not Professor McGonagall, whom everyone but the Slytherins would have preferred. The results from her control was already visible with loads of rule plaques hanging on the wall, causing more and more frustration among the Hogwarts students. Her control had not taken off until Dumbledore was gone, and Harry heard not only Neville and the twins complaining about the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes and her regime, which was held as hidden as possible from the other schools. However, as Harry had talked with a few of the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons it was obvious that also they noticed this.

"Harry, something has to be done! She's hurting students who breaks her laws!" Neville had complained when he had been forced to write with a blood quill after asking her why they weren't practicing with wands when You-Know-Who was back.

Finishing his breakfast quickly he gave Neville and the twins a "see you later" and joined Christopher and Emma back to the carriage where he would have Charms in first period.

He joined Julian's table and glanced over at the Drizzledrops who were toying with a paper plane. Anton Warren was controlling it with his finger and made it dip down towards one of the girls and then up again. For the fun of it Harry curled a piece of paper into a ball and made it look like a bludger which zoomed after the plane.

"Hey, Potter! Don't ruin my plane!" Warren called jokingly. "We've had enough of bludgers now with that Hogwarts seeker out cold."

Just then Professor Alaaroonga stepped inside, and the flying pieces of parchments were summoned by their owners.

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning, professor."

"Today we are going to revise wandless levitation and transportation spells, just like the one you just showed us, Mr. Warren and Mr. Potter. And by the way, Mr. Potter; very impressively done yesterday with that spell. You probably saved that seeker's life with that manoeuvre. It is a spell that is tricky to accomplish, especially wandlessly, as it is designed to stop an object that is moving very fast and is very difficult to hit accurately with the spell, so congratulations."

"Thank you, professor," Harry replied politely.

After a while it was obvious that some of the charms had been needing repetition, though most students managed to perform them at least to some degree they were not sufficient to make a pass in the B. .

"Remember to read up on mirroring spells until next Monday. See chapter seven in the book," Professor Alaaroonga reminded them before adding: "So, hurry off to Transfigurations. Anna will have my butt if you come late again."

The class chuckled and hurried out of the room. They only had five minutes to get from the Charms classroom to the Transfigurations classroom in the other end of the carriage.

During the next couple of hours Professor Magnolia's repetitions about animate to inanimate object transfiguration.

"You must not only picture the object of desire in your mind, but also eliminate the life that differ a creature from an object. This we have talked about before; it should be needless of me to repeat it unless you have your ears and brain filled with cotton."

No one ever dared speak to each other during Professor Magnolia's classes; not even when the noise of students practicing spells covered their voices. Now it was mainly because everyone performed the spells wordlessly, and tried to do so wandlessly in addition. About eighty percent succeeded in making the transfigurations requested before the class ended.

By the end of the day they had gotten two new essays to write in addition to the four others that were to be delivered the following week. Many had learned the hard way that it was best to begin as soon as possible, and a few had even received detention for being awfully late with handing in the assigned essays.

Harry, having finished the Potions essay, Herbology essay, the Ancient Runes essay and the Magical Creatures essay by yesterday, decided he had time to step by the Hospital Wing to check on Malfoy after dinner – at least to see if he had woken up and to know how his condition was.

As he stepped inside he found the hospital wing mostly empty except for a young boy with obvious stomach ache, Madam Pomfrey who was leaning over him, and Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy sitting by their son's bedside.

Madam Pomfrey looked up as the door shut. "Mr. Potter, what can I help you with?"

"I was just stepping by to see how Mr. Malfoy was faring. Has he woken up yet?"

Before Madam Pomfrey was able to answer Narcissa Malfoy did. "Draco just woke up," she said, in fact smiling. Tear streaks were visible on her cheeks and her eyes were slightly red and puffy. "Thank you so much for saving him!"

Before he knew it Harry found himself embraced by her and held tightly to her chest as low sobs sounded from her. He awkwardly patted her back until she pulled back and quickly turned away to collect herself.

Harry's eyes then moved to Mr. Malfoy, whose cold and superior expression was gone, and his face wore a mix of insecurity and nervousness, but most of all happiness. "Yes, thank you, Mr. Potter," he said, the malice gone from his voice as he stepped forth and shook Harry's hand.

"You're welcome, sir."

Malfoy had been watching quietly from the bed throughout the process, and still didn't say anything until Harry approached him.

"How are you feeling?"

Malfoy shrugged. "My head still hurts, but I was hit by a bludger after all, not a snitch."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. You do remember that you caught the snitch, right?"

"No, but father told me what happened. And... thank you, Potter," he added almost in a whisper.

"You're welcome," Harry replied.

"Why did you save me?" A couple of grey eyes met Harry's green. "I thought you wanted people like us dead?"

"You and your parents are two different things. You are not responsible for your parents' actions, and as far as I'm concerned you have not been involved with the Dark Lord," he said, choosing to use the Death Eaters' name for him so not to anger Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. "Thus I consider you innocent, and I'm not willing to let innocents die if I can help it," he added firmly.

Malfoy nodded slowly. "That is Potter to you," he snorted, but his eyes still sparkled mischievously. "Hero complex."

"Well, for once it saved your life, Draco, so be grateful," Mrs. Malfoy said. "Mr. Potter, is there anything we can do to repay you this?"

Harry looked at her with mild surprise for a few seconds before an idea formed in his mind. "How far are you willing to go?" he asked slowly.

"We'd do anything!" Mrs. Malfoy said before her husband could stop her, but once it was said he didn't argue with her, not even upon Harry's quizzical stare.

Opening his palm Harry created a silencing charm around them so no one could hear the conversation except for him and the three Malfoys. They glanced at the walls of the bubble that shimmered weakly before turning completely invisible within a second.

"Anything, ma'am?" Harry repeated challengingly.

This time it was Mr. Malfoy who answered him. "Having our son alive means more than anything to us. Just name a price. We've got money."

"It is not money I want of you." Harry looked at Mrs. Malfoy. "Am I correct that Bellatrix LeStrange is your sister, ma'am?"

"Yes, she is, but what does this involve her?"

"I want you to enter her vault in Gringotts, take Helga Hufflepuff's cup and hand it to me. It is very important that no one learns of this," Harry said seriously.

"You want me to break into my sister's vault?" Mrs. Malfoy asked in disbelief.

"Not to break in. You, being her sister, have access to the vault as long as she hasn't specifically asked the goblins to not let you in," Harry explained to her.

Mr. Malfoy frowned and gazed at him with a suspicious look. "Are you some sort of treasure hunter? It is Helga Hufflepuff's cup we're talking about."

"I do not want it for my own benefits. I can't tell you. I only ask of you to get it for me and not let anyone know," Harry urged.

Many seconds passed in silence until Draco's slightly hoarse voice sounded from the bed: "Do it. He saved my life. If he wants the cup he shall get the cup."

Both his parents and Harry turned to look at him. "Very well. We will get it for you," Mrs. Malfoy finally declared, causing Harry to smile.

"Thank you so much, ma'am." He ended the spell he'd put up. "If you'll excuse me; I have to go to practice."

"You're excused. And good luck against Belarus on Saturday," Mr. Malfoy said with even the weakest hint of a smile.

"Thank you, sir." Giving them a curt nod he strode out of the hospital wing and down to the Waratah carriage to change.

ANC ANC ANC

Malfoy was released from the Hospital wing a few days later, but Harry noticed he was careful and extra watchful of the twins as they practiced. During meals Harry often found him looking curiously at him. He guessed he was still wondering about the cup.

Easter holiday arrived, but some students, like Hermione, kept studying for the upcoming O. . Harry dedicated a lot of time helping Neville studying. He'd improved a lot under Harry's aid, and even the professors asked what the sudden raise in his grades came from. Neville had told them truthfully, and had gained a few housepoints from various professors from it, the exceptions being Snape and Umbridge.

Halfway through the holidays Harry was happily trotting up towards the castle for dinner after a good training session at the Quidditch pitch. The only team remaining for Waratah to play was Beauxbatons, and also Durmstrang had to play Hogwarts. He was so lost in thoughts that he didn't notice Malfoy running up behind him in the entrance hall before he called his name.

"Potter!"

Startled Harry turned to face him. "Mr. Malfoy, may I help you?"

"My mother wants to see you after dinner. Meet her at the edge of the forbidden forest at six," he told him.

Harry nodded. "Thanks for telling me," he said and offered him a small smile before entering the Great Hall and finding Fred and George at the Gryffindor table.

"What's making you all happy looking?" Fred teased.

"Got yourself a girl?" George added.

Harry shook his head and raised a silencing ward. "The day after Malfoy was hit by that bludger I went to see how he was doing in the Hospital Wing and met both of his patents. They profusely thanked me for saving him and offered to do anything to repay me. You know that Malfoy's mother is Bellatrix LeStrange's sister, right?"

"Of course we do!"

"They're born Black and are Sirius' cousins."

"Yeah. Anyway, I asked Mrs. Malfoy to get Hufflepuff's cup from Bellatrix' vault, and Malfoy just told me his mother wants to speak with me," Harry explained.

"You think she has the cup already?" Fred wondered.

"I don't know. I hope so," Harry said and helped himself with fish stew.

"Do you want us to come along?" George offered.

"No. She would trust you even less than she'd trust me. Not that she trusts me a lot," Harry muttered just as Neville sat down with a wide grin, and he ended the silencing spell.

"Guess what? I finally managed the vanishing spell! I vanished a cat!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"That's great, Neville, congratulations," Harry said.

"Yeah, congrats, Nev. Hopefully it wasn't Crookshanks you vanished; Hermione would be pissed," Fred said with a grin.

"Ha ha," Neville said with a small smile.

As soon as he was done eating Harry strode down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, making sure no one followed him. As he passed Hagrid's hut he glanced in through the dark windows, clearly telling that the hut was empty. Hagrid had after all been removed from Hogwarts' grounds after Umbridge took the position as headmistress.

Hidden in the shades of the nearby trees Harry spotted the long blonde hair of Narcissa Malfoy and headed straight towards her.

"I got what you requested of me," she said and pulled out an old leather bag which she handed to him.

Once she extended her hand towards him in order to do so Harry spotted multiple burns on her hand and arm. His gaze met hers.

"The Flagrante curse," he muttered.

Mrs. Malfoy lowered her gaze, and Harry placed one hand on either side of her flat hand and did a simple healing spell. She obviously noticed the tingles because she gasped and pulled her hand out of his grip, examining the now flawless pale skin.

"How did you know?" she asked. "That curse is not one normally taught at school."

Harry smiled. "Maybe not at Hogwarts." He opened the bag and peered inside to make sure it was the correct item, and a spell confirmed that this was the real horcrux. "Thank you so much for this, ma'am," he told her and bent his head slightly.

Mrs. Malfoy looked at him with contemplation for a second or so. "I know what that cup is. I know what you want to do," she said.

Harry froze and looked at her alarmed for a moment before gracefully masking the panic. "What are you going to do with that, ma'am? Tell your master?" Harry asked carefully.

Another few seconds passed in silence before she shook her head. "I promised you not to tell anyone. Besides, my family will be a lot safer with the Dark Lord out of the world," she added in a whisper."

"I admire your bravery, ma'am," he said, bending his head only slightly. "If you will excuse me; I must get ready to Quidditch practice."

"Of course." Harry was about to turn and leave when she called out once more: "Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Will you please watch out for my son? I know you two aren't the best of friends, but... now that Dumbledore is out of the picture... he may have been an old fool, but he was powerful, and the Dark Lord respected him, thus Draco was safe as long as he was here. I know you are powerful too, maybe as much as he had. I see it in your eyes. And you have a wise head. I trust you."

Harry had to hide a frown. That bludger to Malfoy's head surely must have changed something in her. He'd never imagined Draco Malfoy's mother to be like this.

"I will do my best, ma'am," Harry promised her before disappearing into the twilight.

A/N: Thank you so much for your ideas. I really appreciate it, and any reviews I get. I'm not sure whether or not to involve Dobby, and how, though. Hope you like it.


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